#like idk it just seems stressful for no reason to be that visible

[marblebees]

Honestly being even Tumblr Famous seems like it fucking sucks…like all of the bullshit and attitudes ppl attach to like youtubers and you dont even get sponsorships 😭😭😭

[cherryredstars]

Not sure if I’m doing this right since I’m new to tumbler :D but hi love ur writing followed you in an instant!

I was wondering if you could write something for a very low self esteem, inexperienced reader who goes to uni so is like 21 or something and is Miguel’s neighbor. They live in this building and their other neighbor is a rude lady who complains at the slightest Noise basically. she doesn’t dare bother Miguel but is always bothering the reader since reader can’t tell her to f off. Reader is just such sweet chubby lil cinnamon roll :(

Idk if I should have been less descriptive or more TvT; ?

Anyway hope you’re doing great :D don’t forget to hydrate ♥️

1K Prompts

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x fem!reader

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, Age Gap, Sexual Touching (With Clothes on), Slight Fluff

Summary: He helps you, you help him.

A/N: This is perfect, don’t worry, love!!!

Word Count: 2.4K (Not Edited)

This is most definitely going to leave you a crying wreck in your bathroom later.

Your nerves were already on high alert with finally becoming independent and moving out of the college dorms, that pesky exam and assignment you procrastinated on working on, and your job has been firing and hiring people left and right. The last thing you needed was your cranky old neighbor, (it is crazy to think that you once thought she was going to be a kind old woman who would give you cookies when she was lonely), to come banging on your door with a  list of complaints and reasons why she could get you evicted. You do not know what to do, never being in this type of situation before. Honestly, you do not even know about half the things this woman is accusing you of. 

You can only stand there, hand tightly holding the door open as you try not to cry from stress. In your head, you are counting in an effort to make sure your breaths are coming out evenly. The last thing you want is to have a panic attack and have your neighbor add the threat of a mental hospital to the list. You nod along weakly to what she says, letting out whispered apologies that only seem to make her angrier. 

“You useless teenagers and your need to ruin good things, don’t think I forgot when you tr-”

“Is there a problem here?”

His voice is deep and smooth, causing the both of you to jolt. You visibly relax when you turn your head to find Miguel standing outside his apartment door. He has just gotten back from work and running errands, his lab coat draped over his arm as he holds paper bags in his arms. His hair is slightly tousled from the autumn breeze, and a few strands of his black hair are scattered with grey. His sweater hugs his arms and torso in a way that is mouthwatering, and you quickly look away when his eyes meet yours.

Miguel is the only neighbor you really know. He had helped you the first time you moved in, hearing the way you struggled to bring some things up to your apartment. He offered to help, carrying in boxes faster than you could into your apartment. When you had gotten furniture, he was happy to come over and assemble it for you. He is so kind to you, offering to help with a leaking pipe or to answer any of your questions about how to do something. You might have grown a slight crush on your neighbor, something that slightly freaked you out when you realized because of the obvious age gap the two of you have. You have not even finished college yet and he is in his mid-thirties working in a big corporate lab. 

Miguel clears his throat and you look back at him. He stares at you expectantly, totally ignoring the stuttering woman who tries to answer his question. He is only ever interested in what you have to say. You flush under his intent gaze, quickly shaking your head. You do not want to cause more problems, and you definitely do not want to have your cranky neighbor form a bigger vendetta against you. 

Miguel’s eyebrow raises, definitely catching the anxious expression on your face. He hums dismissively after a minute, eyes lazily trailing back to the older woman. His nose scrunches up slightly at the sight of her and he looks away again as the woman stops trying to defend herself. Miguel shrugs, the paper bags rustling with their contents. He turns to face you, once again ignoring the older woman. 

“Then you wouldn’t mind helping me put away my groceries, right? Can’t get my keys with my hands full,” Miguel speaks in a lazy drawl. 

You are quick to nod your head in agreement, stepping out of your doorway and closing the door. The woman steps back, a displeased look on her face as she watches you walk over to Miguel. Miguel keeps his eyes trained on you, watching everything you do. You are shy when you smile up at him. With your back turned towards the old woman, you mouth a ‘thank you’ to him. His eyes instantly snap to your lips, intently studying your exaggerated words. His eyes seem to darken for a second before he blinks and it is gone. His eyes trail back up to your eyes and he tilts his head slightly down. 

“Keys are in my pants pocket.”

You quickly nod, whispering out an ‘okay’. Your face burns as you have to get closer to him to not knock into his arms. The angle is slightly awkward, your hands slip into his pants pocket and your face burns from having your hand so close to his…thing. As you try to find his keys, Miguel looks down at you with a heated look. He watches silently for a few minutes before looking back up and over your shoulder to the older woman. His face is masked in indifference, maintaining eye contact with her until she fidgets and turns away without saying a word. 

At the same time she walks into her own apartment, you make a sound of victory as you finally retrieve his keys. You dangle them in his face with a proud smile, and he gives you an amused smirk. He steps away from his apartment door, giving you room to step in front of him and unlock his door. As you insert the key, you feel Miguel press up against your back. His warmth seeps into your spine and you are quick to bite your tongue so you do not let out a squeal.  

His breath tickles your neck and ear, warm and slightly minty. “What did I tell you about standing up for yourself, hmm cariño?”

The question rumbles with his voice and you have to hold your breath in order to not make an embarrassing sound. You turn to look at him over your shoulder and instantly regret it. He has not moved his face yet, and you are a breath away from him. If you leaned forward the slightest bit, your noses would be touching. You gulp nervously, and Miguel’s eyes trail down to your lips once again. He lets out a deep hum as you lick them nervously. 

“I- she’s not that mean to me.” You whisper out in the older woman’s defense. You cannot help the way your lashes flutter as you try to meet his eyes. 

Miguel scoffs at your defense, finally backing away from you. He shifts his hold on the bags, freeing his hand to turn the doorknob. Your hand is still there, and your breath hitches when his large hand encompasses yours. His hand moves both yours and the doorknob, making a combined effort to open the door. You are still watching him from over your shoulder, mouth slightly opened in awe. Miguel looks down at you, something playful in his eyes as he tilts his head to the side. 

“You’re blocking the doorway, cariño. The ice cream I got you is going to melt.”

Your blush returns from the pet name and you stutter out an apology as you rush inside his apartment. It’s warm, and you’re hit with the smell of him. You find the light switch and turn on the lights, flooding the whole place with a warm glow. Miguel follows you into the kitchen, placing the paper bags on the dining room table. He rummages through them, glaring at you when you try to grab one to start helping. His hands connect with something cold, and he pulls out a personal pint of ice cream. He hands it over to you and you turn it around to see the label. Your eyes instantly light up when you read the brand and flavor. Last week you had ranted to Miguel about how the grocery store did not have your favorite ice cream in stock as he was fixing a problem with your internet. The whole time he just hummed along, you did not actually think he was listening. 

He smiles softly at you as you beam up at him. He turns back to the groceries, sighing when he sees your hand reaching for the bags again. He turns to you with a bored expression. He gently removes your hands from the bag, telling you to go eat your ice cream before it melts. You grumble playfully under your breath, complaining about how you were supposed to be helping. He chuckles as he follows after you, getting a spoon out for you. 

“I thought the whole point was that I was supposed to help you put the groceries away, not eat them.” 

Your complaining is cut off by a yelp when Miguel grabs your waist. He lifts you up, putting you on top of the counter. Your eyes are wide as you look at him and his head nuzzles into the crook of your neck. You squirm slightly from his proximity. 

“You can help me by sitting prettily and keeping me company. Tell me about your day.” 

He pulls away then, returning to the dining room table and carrying a bag to the counter next to you. Your eyes are still bashful as you watch him, quietly opening your ice cream and beginning to eat it. Miguel starts to pull contents from the bag and looks over at you expectantly. Hesitantly, you begin to go through your day, easing into it the more you talk. You speak between bites of ice cream, half paying attention to Miguel as he walks around the kitchen to place things in their proper places. Occasionally, he looks over at you as you speak, his eyes trained on the way you place the spoon in your mouth and lick at the delicious treat. 

You are almost done when he puts the last thing away. He walks over to you as you continue talking absentmindedly, just finished slipping the spoon out of your mouth again. You stop talking when Miguel’s eyes drop to your mouth, his thumb coming up the swipe at your lower lip. When he pulls it away, a bit of melted ice cream is stuck to his skin. His eyes meet yours again when he brings it to his mouth, licking it away. He hums in appreciation for the taste. 

Your mouth drops open with a gasp as you watch, eyes trained on the pink muscle. You watch as his lips form a sly smile, and you blush as you look back into his eyes. But his eyes are still trained on your parted mouth, eyes dilated and hungry. He leans forward slightly, hand returning to rub at your bottom lip before he replaces it with his lips. He is not kissing you exactly, only sucking on your lip until it is swollen and red. He gives it a small nip before he pulls away, his hands falling to rub your thighs. It causes a small whimper to escape your mouth and Miguel basks in the noise. 

His hand seeps closer and closer to the area between your thighs, grabbing the carton of ice cream and moving it to the side. His hands hastily return to the area between your thighs, fingers brushing against your center. Your breath hitches and you look down to where his hands are. Your attention is snapped away when his gravelly voice meets your ears. 

“Continue with the story, querida. You don’t sound like you finished.”

You stutter over your words, the topic of conversation blanking from your mind. Miguel chuckles knowingly, his fingers continuing to brush up and down until they land on your clothed bud. He presses into it hard enough so you can feel it through the fabric of your pants and panties, gently reminding you where you left off. You nod nervously, hands snapping up to meet his shoulders as you feel wetness rushing into your panties. You stutter and choke on your words, eyes shutting as you rotate your hips sloppily into his hand. The movement is jerky, and you feel slightly embarrassed at how painfully obvious it is that no one has ever touched you like this before. But Miguel seems to like it, likes the idea that you’re untouched and he is the only person who has seen you like this. 

It gets even better when you make those soft noises, cutting yourself off and having to be reminded about what you were saying. Miguel continues his hand movements, pressing into you and rubbing and stroking. Your wetness has seeped through your panties, dampening the material of your leggings. If you were not lost in how good it feels, you would have been grossed out and uncomfortable. A weak call of his name escapes you and Miguel looks up from your cunt to look at your face. He hums in acknowledgement, watching as you try to pull his face closer to yours in a kiss. 

He swiftly avoids it, and you would have curled into yourself at the blunt rejection if you did not become distracted by his mouth suck and licking along your neck and jaw. Your mouth falls open with a moan, head leaning back to give him more room. He groans against your skin, fingers pressing tight circles to your clit. With a few hard circles, your back arches and your hold on him tightens. Gasping moans leave you and you feel the band in you snap, releasing more wetness into your panties as you finish. Miguel pulls his head away from your neck, keeping his fingers to your bud as you ride out the orgasm. Once you slump back down, he pulls his hands away. As you catch your breath, Miguel cleans up the mess on the counter. He reaches over, closing your melted ice cream and putting the spoon in the sink. 

You are still in a daze when he pushes the warm container in your hands, his own hands gentle as he lifts you off the counter. Your eyes are glossy in after-lust as he gently guides you out of his apartment and into yours. His warm hand leaves the small of your back, massaging your sides before he whispers a thank you into your ear for your help. You are only pulled completely out of your daze when you hear your door lock and close as Miguel leaves. You turn to look at the door, cheeks blazing as you clutch tightly onto your ice cream.

You are totally getting a noise complaint for that old woman tomorrow.

Pt. 2 Pt. 3 Pt. 4 Pt. 5

Extra 1

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[drunkenkissesatdusk]

Can u maybe do like a Damian wayne x reader where they're friends and all but sometimes they (reader) tends to zone out a lot and think abt a lot of deep ish things that cause her to make weird faces without even realizing? Like she's much more quieter than usual and when he turns to look at her, he sees that she's visibly very upset but for seemingly no reason.

Oh, and if u want angst, maybe the specific thing she's thinking abt has something to do with him so she's really annoyed and snappy when he asks her what's wrong? Like she's be thinking abt how rude guys in their school are and then it kinda reminds her of Damian. Idk🙈🙉

(*ˊᗜˋ*)ᵗᑋᵃᐢᵏ ᵞᵒᵘ

am i good at angst? no… will i try? absolutely.

NOT YOUR FAULT.

pairings — damian wayne - al ghul x reader (platonic)

warnings — i tried to write angst but gave up, that’s all (and the ending sucks that’s not my fault (it is))

summary — pretty much what the request is gangsters

notes — i don’t know how to write angst 😞

━━━━━━━ YOU SHOULD’VE SEEN THE SIGNS before it was too late. you were sleeping more, food was suddenly too plain, you were easy to irritate, and you felt like you couldn’t do anything.

but, of course, you hadn’t understood when they began, you just blamed it on stress, since you had tons of tests coming up that you were relentlessly studying.

at some point, your grades had started slipping, and your teachers didn’t miss that. you were forgetting to turn in assignments, and whenever you suddenly couldn’t sleep the night before, you started falling asleep in class.

multiple teachers had brought it up after class with you, and you were able to come up with excuse after excuse.

eventually, Damian noticed. Damian, one of the only kids who didn’t ignore you this year, your first year of high school. but, obviously, that wasn’t always the case. Damian had originally been mean, tormenting you alongside all his other friends.

Damian only noticed because of your lack of emotions throughout the time you’d spend with him. on top of that, said time was clearly dwindling.

“hey, hey.” Damian called after you, catching up soon after and walking with you outside, far enough away from other kids so that the two of you could talk without anyone being nosy.

“what’s going on? you’ve been acting weird the past few days.” Damian’s face was clearly concerned, which irritated you further.

sure, you’d been quieter recently, and you almost always had a sour look on your face, but why would he bring it up?

“nothing, im fine.” you defensively crossed your arms over your chest — also doing so for a little bit of extra comfort as Damian seemed to be interrogating you.

“bullshit. talk to me, i’m your friend.” Damian stared at you, face full of worry.

“nothing.” you reiterated, “i said i’m fine, Damian. i’m fine.” you put emphasis on your words.

“you’re not a good liar.” he stated.

“like you even care.” you scoffed, turning on your heel and walking away. you found semblance in the school library, in the back of the room where you doubted anyone would go looking for you in.

with the silence of the room suddenly hitting you, your guard was up and your eyes were relentlessly looking around.

you probably looked angry. if anyone were to look at you, they’d probably think you were pissed off. were you? yeah, probably. why were you mad? you had no clue.

inhaling carefully, you felt your body begin to unwind, your heart rate slowly slowed.

guilt and regret flooded your system. you could then remember the way you’d treated Damian.

he was truthfully your only friend, he hadn’t deserved that.

i’m sorry, you sent the message. i didn’t mean to be so rude, you sent afterwards. he read the messages almost instantly.

it’s fine, not ur fault, he sent back.

sleepover at mine? you asked him, gathering yourself again before making your way to your next class. he agreed, and the day went on swimmingly.

the sleepover was practically the same, nothing bad happened, and it was easier to talk about it with him.

masterlist — reminder that asks / requests are open!!

[x-liv25-jamieswife]

YAYY!! Reqs are open again! I know you’ve already done something similar but can you do maybe some hcs of Graysons mental if that makes sense (like anxiety, depression, schizophrenia) only if you feel comfortable ofc <3

sad grayson head canons pt. 2

of course! i wont be talking about schizophrenia though bc i don't know enough about it and i don't feel comfortable talking about smth knowing i might be writing things that are completely inaccurate and that might offend/hurt some people. i apologize if these suck or if this is really short. when i made this post, i had just found out someone in my family was in the hospital and i wrote these to distract me so idk how good they'll be. not all of these will be on anxiety and depression btw. tw for suicidal thoughts. hope you still like them <3.

when he swims at night, the pool tends to be very cold bc its the one of the only things that makes him forgot about everything that is making him anxious. if he can't swim, he takes cold showers.

although it might not look like it, he gets very anxious and overwhelmed in situations where there are a lot of people. he overthinks everything he says to them, wonders if his suit looks nice enough/if he's presentable, if he's making a good impression, and has trouble focusing when there are so many people he has to talk too. he's very good at hiding it though so you would never guess (like i said, multiple people, if its just one person it doesn't matter to him)

like i said in my last hc, he gets anxious when talking to many people. i want to add that usually, its not usually himself that makes himself anxious but emily talking in his head telling him he's doing smth wrong. basically, if it weren't for emily, he wouldn't be anxious talking to so many people. idk if this one makes sense.

one of the reasons he wears suits is bc it makes him feel put together when he feels like a mess in his head. he always looks so flawless which makes people think he's fine.

he went through a period of time when he was younger where he couldn't get out of bed to go to school/do his school work which ig seems ooc, but we're talking about young grayson here, not the put together version of him we know. he hated himself so bad he didn't think it was worth living anymore and thought that there was no point in working if he wasn't going to live long enough to get a career/become an adult. also, another reason was bc he felt sm pressure to be the best that he kind of just gave up. tobias got mad at him and thought he was overreacting. he did get better thanks to his brothers, enough for him to start doing his school work again and start handling the pressure he was under.

he's very self-conscious about his appearance. by this i don't mean looking put together, i mean sometimes he'll look in the mirror and think he's gained weight which makes him workout more/swim. its not that he finds himself ugly, he just doesn't want people to notice and think something's wrong/he's going through something when he obviously is (cause in his head, if he doesn't always look the same, people will think smth's wrong/he's loosing control but thats just not true).

he used to have bad acne growing up and it really affected his confidence. he used to try to cover it up with concealer but no matter what he did it was always visible. it ended up going away but he hates looking at old pictures of himself cause he hates seeing it. it caused him really bad anxiety in public bc he thought people were judging him.

sometimes, people will try to talk to him but he won't hear them bc he can't stop stressing over all of the things he has to do and is stuck in his head. people have to repeat what they're saying and and shake him to get him out of spiraling.

grayson tried to stop taking his anti depressants when he was younger cause he was sure he didn't need them. he realized not long after that he couldn't just stop and that they were actually helping him.

after he realized they were helping him, he started to wonder why he couldn't be 'normal' like his other brothers (at the time, he didn't know his brothers were also struggling with their own issues)

to handle his anxiety when he was younger, he would punch a punching bag. this was before he learned how to handle his anger and stuff. he only allowed himself to lose control when doing this.

his room and office have to be clean at all times. if it isn't, it causes him even more anxiety. it makes him feel messy and not in control.

his grand father used to tell him that hawthornes don't have mental illnesses and that he's overreacting (stupid ass grand father). it made grayson feel like he wasn't good enough.

after avery almost died during the bombing, he considered offing himself bc he didn't think he was worth it. he let one of the people he cares most about almost die, and the guilt was nearly too much for him.

grayson used to feel like he shouldn't be struggling the way he is bc of all of the opportunities and money he has. he felt like his feelings weren't valid, and that others had it worse. he tought he had no reason to feel as crappy as he did and that made him hate himself/think there was smth wrong with him. it only made him feel more depressed.

sometimes, he'd go on the rooftop of the house to get some air, see the height and the deadly fall, and consider jumping off. he used to think everyone was better off without him and that he'd be doing everyone a favor by offing himself.

in my first sad grayson post, i said that he owns a teddy bear nash gave him. he'll never admit it, but when he feels really anxious and like his world is crumbling down, he cuddles with it. it's one of the only things that actually helps him calm down. it also helps when he has a panic attack, he grabs it and holds it against his chest to relax (it also helps him sleep). the only one who knows about all of this is nash.

his anxiety tends to get worse during the winter cause he can't swim in the outdoor pool. its one of his most effective coping mechanisms. swimming in their indoor pool isn't the same according to him.

he used to hate christmas bc people would get him gifts he didn't think he deserved. he loved the gifts he'd receive but thought that people shouldn't be spending their money on him and that others were more worthy.

he used to see a therapist on and off for a while (in secret) when he was younger but would always end up stopping after his grandfather found out and told him he was wasting the therapist's time. he finally starts seeing a therapist consistently in his mid-20s (so after tgg and stuff).

[elyrch]

Dating Caspian the Merman (OC)

a/n: first time writing for one of my oc's. i hope you guys like it. kinda got a little too deep into writing about the biology of mermaids, sorry lol

caspian isn't a prince or really all that important in his city. of course, he is important to some of the people there, but he doesn't have a whole lot of things to really do.

you'd meet him when you go down to the rocky shores at night to think. coincidentally, he's also there- kind of bored, of course, but he's looking up at the moon as he wishes he could speak to humans without being in danger of getting harpooned.

this is the only real reason he goes there at night instead of the day- he loves the sun, but he knows that people are not as kind as they seem.

either way, you go to the shore and see him as he's laying on a large, flat rock. once you see him, you HAVE to reassure him that you're not gonna hunt him or tell anyone about him or else he'll be terrified. once calm though, he's pretty sweet.

he's got silver-white hair, long, slender fingers, soft blue eyes, and ears that are slightly pointed. he's also got very pale, almost to the point of being kind of blue, skin. on certain spots (where skin would usually be rough, like elbows) he's got pastelly blue scales that become more frequent as you look down at his hips, then his legs (or, really, the lack of legs. he's got a fish tail.) his hair is kinda brittle since he's in the ocean, but it's soft considering his situation. his nails are a little unnaturally sharp, but they seem to be dulled by how he uses them to move around on land (aka: the rocks act as makeshift nail files) and he's got a long scar across his stomach (it looks as though it quite literally tore through him) and he's got top surgery scars that are a lot paler pink, but are still visible.

on his body, he's got a few tattoos, as well- in my mind, mermaids use tattoos to signify which kingdom and family they're from- kingdom on the left wrist, and family on the right. wrists are very vulnerable, so showing the family and kingdom tattoos is customary before doing practically anything else, such as fighting for one's honor or whatever. caspian hasn't gotten a real job yet, so he hasn't gotten a tattoo for that- although his father is a successful coral and kelp farmer. job tattoos go on the sternum, as close to the heart as possible- caspian has a few ideas for his though. he's very good at the spear, so maybe he'd be a warrior or hunter of some kind.

according to mythology, mermaids and mermen were made by an angered witch who combined a village with fish to make them fish people. this means they have both lungs (above water breathing) and gills (underwater breathing). i don't really know how this works so just imagine its some like, second lung situation or whatever idk.

mermaids and mermen have different metabolisms to humans- they gain and lose weight very easily, and this can depend on the temperature of the water, how stressed they are, or what they eat.

his society is also highly matriarchal, as well- when he transitioned, his mother genuinely hated him since she thought he was betraying him. his father, though, understood after a while. shortly after their final argument, caspian's mother was harpooned by a human, and died in the cradle of the waves. this society believes burials at sea are honorable, so they did the ceremony without a body.

in order to like, date you, i don't think caspian would pull an ariel and get legs. he'd actually find a way to help you breathe underwater (like through a spell or something) so you can go into the ocean with him. he's very considerate!

overall 10/10 but i think he wouldnt know that seawater hurts your lungs the first time he'd drag you under, so he'd feel VERY VERY bad

thank you for reading! PLEASE tell me if you guys like it, teehee

swan banners by @animatedglittergraphics-n-more

support banner by @saradika-graphics

[luneariaa]

✧ tornare insieme.

✰ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 : claudio serafino x fem! reader.

✰ 𝐰. 𝐜. : 2k+ ( i got carried away )

✰ 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 : since the breakup, his mind has been so restless. on one night, he unexpectedly bumps into you within the park.

✰ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 : not much proofread, claudio seemed a lil miserable here though ( only at the beginning parts ) and might be ooc.

✰ 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 : brainrotting over him still ngl like 💙 -- and idk what i wrote for the most part :")

. dividers by @/saradika-graphics !! 🏹

It’s been days since the whole break up thing happened. Have weeks passed, even? He didn’t really give you any proper reasons to do so, and it feels so abrupt. He could see through your reluctant actions– truly a tough decision to do. It’s not like you got any other choices at that moment.

The Italian exorcist remembers that day all too well; your mere expression showing a visible pained look, both physically and mentally. You didn’t even have the time to process everything, simply just doing what you were told.

Are you not good enough for him?

But during all those times when he’s not together with you anymore, he feels restless. He feels lost, he doesn’t know what to do. Claudio knew he had to do that eventually. The immense feeling of regret begins to resurface within him, now wishing he could take those words back as he was trying to take a break in his private study room. 

It’s been a tiring day as per usual for him today, and he wishes for nothing more than your sole comfort alone– even when it’s not possible after what happened. His duties may be done for the day, but his heart feels as if something is still lacking. He misses you. 

You were the light of his life, and he just messes those up further. Claudio even wondered if you still thought of him, as he did with you.

With a frustrated sounding sigh, he brings one of his hands up to rub his forehead to at least alleviate some of his current stress pain. He misses you dearly– plain and simple. He knew he fucked up, and it’s not really by his own favor. 

Claudio genuinely thought that his line of work is quite dangerous for someone like you, especially since you were too involved with him. He has forgotten on how you actually accepted his whole job and lifestyle as the exorcist leader for the Archers of Sirius– highly aware of the tasks that he has to do often, having no complaints. You accepted him for how he truly is.

It’s reassuring, to say the least. But also concerning, since he doesn’t want any potential danger to harm you while you’re not in his sight. Which as a result, he had to push you away, to prevent any of those from happening.

But now, the pain he feels is too much to bear. He needs you back. He wanted to make things right again; he doesn’t care at this point. You mean so much to him, and forever it will stay that way.

It’s quite late at night, as most people by that hour can be assumed to be already asleep, or merely just resting within their own private sanctuary. Claudio left the building not too long ago, wanting to clear his mind before making any proper decisions. No feeling of anxiousness, or even fear creeping up within him, as he had faced even scarier things during his time as an exorcist. But God, he feels pathetic and miserable for wandering around almost aimlessly in the middle of the night.

The lone moon shines overhead; simply looking beautiful as ever, and filled the atmosphere with such serenity, yet it’s just not enough for his preoccupied mind, filled with the mere thoughts of you.

Instead of letting his negative thoughts completely take over, his slate blue eyes wandered over the view of some parts of the city that’s being displayed. The sight alone never fails to amaze him.

But as he still tries to get a grasp of his surroundings, a familiar figure came into his line of vision; noticing how the said person even halted on their tracks so quickly. The expression of disbelief is present, but he wouldn’t even want to blame it on them for that matter.

Has fate decided to play around with them?

Of course, you’ve recognized that familiar tall, dark blue-haired male from somewhere as well– somewhere, which perhaps, better left forgotten. But you couldn’t, since your feelings for him are still one of those that you hold so dearly to yourself.

It looks like the both of you coincidentally had the same idea of going out on this seemingly fine night– you really can’t tell it anymore as much. Claudio was contemplating for a good minute there, thinking if he should openly acknowledge your sole presence, or simply walked toward another direction, but in the end– 

– “(Y/N)?” He begins to call out to your name; his voice sounding soft, yet lowered than usual, as if he was actually hesitant to break the lingering silence that was built between the two of you.

Your mind went blank for a moment there, unsure on what or how to answer him to that. Without thinking much, you tried to walk back towards the direction as to where you previously were from. 

“Wait!” The Italian male instantly cries out to you once more, catching up to your retreating form with ease. To be fair, he doesn’t really know how to deal with the whole situation either, since he never really experiences things like this with anyone else, but you. Only you.

“Can we talk, please..?” So you stopped in your tracks, turning your head to finally face him again, but this time, properly. You couldn’t find it in yourself to ignore him completely when his voice sounded so sincere, just like how he always did when you both are still in a relationship. Never once has he mistreated you, there’s that.

“About what, exactly?”

“Can we find anywhere more private, at least? Just this once– I want you to hear me out.” It’s been a while since you two talked like this, so it feels a little.. Odd. Yet, it gives you a lot of mixed feelings; you couldn’t even tell.

“It’s important.”

You gave it some thought, before eventually sighing with a defeated look. His expression alone makes you feel something, which stirs within you so much. Like, you genuinely feel bad if you chose to ignore or reject his simple request. What if he means it this time? The least you could do is to hear him out, even for this once.

“Fine. Just this once."

"You got any places in mind, or my place instead? Since it’s already quite late.” And why would you even offer your place to begin with? You wouldn't even know.

“Your place,” he replied almost instantly, very well aware of how late it already has been. Claudio wanted to settle everything properly for once, given the current opportunity– or even if it meant that this would be the last time he would be able to see you.

“Lead the way.”

“I’ll follow and watch from behind.”

The dark blue haired male didn’t mean to sound creepy in any way, but rather, his tone has shown the hint of protectiveness underlying within it, even though you both aren’t exactly together anymore. Still one of his admirable traits, but you wouldn’t say it out loud. Even when the two of you started heading towards the said destination, he remains behind with a quite respectable distance, silently feeling as if he has a sense of purpose for the night.

“This better be good.”

“I promise, I’ll make it worth your time.” Claudio reassures to your utterances; his eyes taking in his changing surroundings that begin to fill his senses like no other. But deep down, it’s like a mask he’s trying to put up, feeling the nervousness gradually eating him up internally. The last thing he wanted to do is to mess things up further and you being disappointed by him in a lot of ways.

Once the two of you arrived at where you’re currently residing, you told him to wait for you in the living room as you went to prepare some drinks for the both of you. You don’t even understand how you can be so casual right now– especially when your literal ex was inside your home around this specific hour, but you couldn’t care less. If his intentions were true, that’s the least you could do. You can fight if anything.

His eyes silently followed over your movements from afar, not making any attempts to approach you there or anything akin to it. The momentary stillness within the air definitely helps a bit; trying to remain calm himself.

Not much has changed inside your house either. The photo frames are still in place, and even the small vase with flowers in it looked so fresh; placed just on top of the table nicely. But what caught his attention is the pendant he used to give you in the past– hanging someplace safe, yet visible to those who are observant enough.

The exorcist was surprised that you would even keep that, clearly thought you got rid of it sometime during the breakup.

A nostalgic look flashes over his features, seeing as the remains of his magic somehow works perfectly still within the pendant, yet faint– as if to symbolize loneliness, even somber. It means a lot to him that you didn’t choose to throw it away.

Not too long after, his gaze shifted once again when you returned from the kitchen with the cups in your hands, settling yourself down across from him once you’ve given the cup to him. 

“Alright, speak.”

You didn’t intend to sound so harsh, as it’s the first thought that you literally had at the moment. He didn’t seem to mind as much, clearly understanding as he nodded slightly. “Right.”

“I just– I just wanted to apologize for how I broke up with you so suddenly back then.. And I realized that I never really gave you a clear explanation either.”

Straight to the point, he refuses to waste time any longer, choosing his next words carefully before adding to his previous statement. “You’re always so good to me, and you deserved better. I should’ve respected you more.”

The tension in the air is palpable, yet he tries his best to not let it get through him while letting his words flow out— the words he wanted to speak for so long. 

“But it's something had to do with my job before. I’m sure you’re aware of it already, of how dangerous it truly is.”

You remained quiet during the time he spoke, giving him all the time he needed after he took a sip of the drink you had made earlier. No anger is present, but rather, you let his words sink in.

His slate blue eyes would find your own, letting it stay there as you returned his gaze. Claudio wanted you to understand each of what he has said, of how he meant every word.

“I don’t expect you to forgive me in any way, but for the real reason– to keep it simple, I don’t want to potentially put you into danger; the risk from the last one is quite unpredictable.”

You had this one almost unreadable expression plastered across your face; silently contemplating over his words, while your eyes are skeptically glancing at him. Claudio noticed the look you currently gave him, which leads to him eliciting a quiet sigh.

“I mean it; honest.” He sounded way more genuine and truthful at this point; finding no reason to lie to you after what happened between the both of you. “You know how much I cared about your safety, cara.”

The rather endearing nickname slips past his lips without any second thoughts, yet he makes no attempt to take it back. Just one of his old habits; one that he couldn’t seem to get rid of. His words did reach your ears, but somehow, you got distracted by something else almost entirely.

“.. Have you eaten properly lately?” 

The Italian exorcist was caught off guard by your simple statement, remaining silent for a bit as he feels called out. You noticed, after all. Was it that obvious?

“I don’t know– it’s just been rough for me since, well, that day.” He looks almost too ashamed to admit it outright at this moment, but he knew he had no other choice. “I think I haven’t been able to eat properly as of late..”

Claudio suddenly had the sudden urge to tell you everything right from his mind. About how he always tries to keep himself as busy as he could– up to the point of forgetting his daily meals intake, whether it’s unintentional or not. Yet, he refrained from doing so, keeping it all to himself instead.

The guilt you felt at this moment is becoming too real; your eyes appearing to be filled with certain heaviness, though you managed to gather up your next words without any hints of hesitation whatsoever.

“Wait here, I’m gonna prepare something for you.” Before he could even protest, you've already gone to the kitchen. You wouldn’t dare to say that you’re a good cook much, but you’re willing to regardless. It’s like, the least of your worries at this point.

Claudio was taken aback by your actions, to say the least, but some other part of him feels somehow.. Relieved, in a way. He couldn’t help but to wonder; what’s running through your mind right now, and what made you act that way. Nonetheless, it’s somehow leading for a better progress, by the looks of it. 

It feels good to be able to let everything out from his chest– feeling more better than how he truly feels during the past few weeks.

However, his attention was shifted back to you once he heard a wince-- accompanied by strings of cusses under your breath. You've accidentally cut some tiny part of your finger with a knife while you're just trying to slice something.

The male immediately rushes to your side, feeling worried as ever if anything had gone wrong. His gaze instantly landed on your bloodied finger, letting out a faint sigh of concern. "You alright?"

You get startled by his sudden presence being way too close to you, but you simply brush it off.

"It's just a minor cut; a small mistake. I shouldn't be so careless.." Your voice trailed off near the end of your sentence, looking downwards with a somewhat disappointed expression.

"Let me see it." Claudio held his palm open, motioning for you to give out your hand to him. You didn't have any much choice, so you obliged. He began to take a closer look at one of your injured fingers, helping you clean it a bit, before wrapping the small bandage around it carefully. It looked nothing too serious, much to his relief.

"There, all done. Take it easy, okay? Please be careful, next time."

By the time he finished speaking out those words, he realized that you were no longer staring at your now bandaged finger, but rather, at him. So, he returned the silent gaze, not knowing what to do or say next--

-- that is, until he noticed that your eyes are getting teary this time, averting your gaze away quickly from him in embarrassment.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have done that." But what is there to apologize for? He already caught sight of it, now feeling a little more saddened by it himself.

"Hey, there's nothing to be sorry for." He replies in a soft tone, retaining his gentle demeanor as he silently urges you into an embrace. "Mistakes happen, after all."

One of his hands begins to rub your back, in hopes of providing you some sort of comfort. Perhaps, you're still having trouble processing the whole events from the night, and it's starting to gradually overwhelm you.

"I'm sorry, I just.." You missed him. By the time you fall into his embrace, he could tell it so well-- especially when you begin to cling onto him ever so slightly, trying to keep yourself steady.

Claudio tightens his hold around you just a little, silently savoring the moment while still rubbing your back in a comforting manner. You did miss him, after all; just like how he did with you.

He wanted to tell you that he still, very much cares and loves you, but the timing doesn't feel right to him. Maybe sometime, when everything is back to normal and alright between you two once more, he'll finally have the courage to say it.

Just for now, he wanted to relish in your presence-- feeling your warmth alone, and even the scent that you possessed to fill his senses so nicely. God, he misses this; he misses you so dearly.

"I'll help with the cooking, okay?" He spoke in an almost hushed tone, brushing some of your strands of hair behind. Claudio is always the better cook between the two of you-- able to whip something up even with limited time. "I'll do the chopping and all of it, you'll just help me around a bit. Don't want to risk any more injuries on your hand."

You nodded slowly while your head is still buried on his chest, smiling ever so slightly when he finally pressed his lips on your forehead.

hope the ending part isn't too rushed bc i think my brain got fried atp /hj

@luneariaa do not repost; reblogs are alright. all rights reserved.

[thebigbiwolf]

Starvin' Darlin - Chapter 2

Pairing: Not quite friends to lovers Astarion x OC/F!Tav

Chapter Summary: Seeing Evelyn with Gale stirs up some unfamiliar and VERY unwelcome feelings in Astarion. And for some reason, she graces him with a midnight visit. I'm terrible with summaries but here's what's in store for you:

* A bit of possessive!Astarion if you squint

* More pining

* More biting

* Deep DEEP emotional constipation (my personal favorite)

Fic Tags: Minor spoilers for Act 1, The Bite Scene, Emotional slow burn, Angst, Teasing, Frottage (god I'm sorry), Pining, This is my first ever fic so idk how to tag things appropriately but you get the gist.

Fic Warnings: Eventual Explicit Smut (18+ MDNI), Language, Canon-Typical Violence, Dubcon (I cannot stress this enough), Bloodlust/Loss of control, Mentions of blood, lmk if you need anything else tagged.

Read on AO3: Here

Word Count: 5k

A/N: School and life have been kicking my ass but I finally got around to finishing this chapter and I couldn't wait to post it! I'm having so much fun writing in Astarion's POV. Huge thank you to my bestie @imaginarydromedary for being the best beta ever and for your endless patience with me.

The morning that follows that fateful night in Evelyn’s tent goes rather well, all things considered.

She approaches Astarion first. A pleasant surprise, considering they could hardly look at each other after he ravaged her the night before. 

He looks over the novel he had been skimming, Shanties for the Bitch Queen . Admittedly, not one of his favorites, but reading material was scarce these days. He closes it with a soft thud and rises to meet her, all pleasant smiles and perfectly coiffed hair. 

“Good morning.” he says, a curious tilt to his head. 

She looks a bit more pale than usual with faded, grim circles forming underneath her eyes. Her bun is a bit unruly, some strands falling into her face and parted by the wine-dark bone of her horns. She either didn’t sleep well or is still reeling from the anemia. 

The bruise he administered had spread and darkened, plainly visible even under the black ink of her tattoos. It seems she found no use in hiding it, then. Very well. It’s not like they keep extra scarves laying about the camp, anyway.

“How do you feel?” he asks, gently. He doesn’t mean to provoke her, but his curiosity is getting the better of him, and the slightest hint of shame is beginning to burrow its way into his conscience. Ugh . He thinks he prefers the tadpole.

“A bit woozy.” She responds, “I woke up this morning with the intention of asking you how one usually fares after being drained, but then I remembered,” she stops herself when she realizes what she’s about to say: I was your first. Unspoken, but lingering between them . It makes him want to laugh; A woman with a reputation such as hers acting so bashful .

“It’ll pass,” he reassures, “Just be glad I’m not a true vampire. A bite from one of them and you might wake up as a vampire spawn, like my good self. All of a vampire’s hunger, but few of their powers.”

“Speaking of hunger,” Evelyn says, realizing she’s famished. She turns from him and begins making her way towards the campfire. Finding that only charred logs and old cinders remain, she runs the black tip of her boot through the ashes with the intention of stoking the fire back to life, dust clouding, then dispersing before her.

He follows closely behind, observing. She seems well, all things considered. A bit out of sorts, but nothing a bit of rest couldn’t cure.

“You know, I had considered bringing you an apple,” Astarion starts, hovering by the pit, “Leaving it by your bedside before you rose for the day - ever the gentleman, but,” he clears his throat. 

That newly recognizable twinge of something is curling its way back into his chest, causing him to squint in discomfort. 

In truth, he didn’t know how she would react to him encroaching on her space. Not after that dreadful attempt on her life. He is a monster, after all. That, and she had already been so insufferably forgiving. Such kindness is likely to reach its end sooner rather than later.

“I - erm, didn’t want to disturb your rest.” is what he finally settles on. Polit , he thinks, Best not overdo it.

“That would have been nice of you.” She says it quietly, more to herself than to him.

“Oh, darling, you have no idea how nice I can be.” The flirtation sneaks its way out of him on an impulse. He’s about to apologize, something he seems to be doing a bit too often for his taste, when out of the corner of his eye, he catches one of their companions making their way towards them. 

“It appears we have company.” Astarion sneers, “And here I thought I was going to have you all to myself this morning.”

To the elf’s surprise, most of them were quick to come around to the idea of a vampire spawn slinking about. Especially once they found themselves in the middle of an ambush, and Astarion very quickly made good on his promises to her. 

Newfound strength coursed through his body, her blood weaving threads of heat through his veins as if it were his own. His speed was unmatched, cutting down half a dozen goblins before they had a chance to wail.

 It was exhilarating . 

The day flew by in flashes of red. Despite the many unnecessary stops Evelyn insisted on making to help undesirables, Astarion’s emotional high managed to remain relatively intact. That was, until their group settled in for the night.

As most of the others retired to their tents, the elf prepared for his nightly ritual: sifting through his collection of tomes and selecting one to read under the stars - his favorite way to end the evening. 

It was supposed to be perfect. Uneventful. Quiet .

But, there was Gale: lost in thought and muttering to himself, or maybe to the conjured image of some woman’s head floating above his hand. Astarion may have been able to ignore that in itself, but the sound of light footsteps drew his attention. 

Evelyn was approaching the wizard. 

He scoffs. Of course Gale was showing off in hopes of procuring her attention. The man was practically putting on a damn light show in his desperation. It’s not enough that the wizard eats valuable items they could be using to pawn for coins, but does he really have to be such an unbearable distraction as well?

“Pretty,” he recognizes the word as it leaves her. The sound of their chatter was too faint for it to carry its way to his beautifully pointed ears, but he could just barely read Evelyn’s lips at this angle.

Gale startles, dropping his hand along with his focus. The woman’s visage vanishes. He looks embarrassed, shifting uncomfortably as he no doubt explains himself in some horribly mundane fashion.

Astarion returns to his book, scanning over the page, but the words refuse to settle in his mind. He stares at the ink, willing the sentences to fill his head with anything other than the nonsense unfolding in front of him, but his focus stubbornly remains on the chattering pair.

Gods, he’s talking her ears off. 

At any moment, Evelyn will dismiss the man, embarrassing the hells out of him, which will make for an excellent show. That in itself is enough reason to keep watching. But the longer this goes on, the less he’s sure. 

She seems to be enjoying their chat, nodding in agreement at Gale’s words, listening to him without so much as a hint of impatience. Gale then steps behind her, a bit too close for the likes of an average, friendly conversation. His chest almost touches the woman’s shoulder as he moves into her space, the cloth of his nightshirt just barely grazing her. 

Something within Astarion begins twisting in protest. His thumb runs over the long-forgotten page in circles. The rough texture reminds him that yes, he was supposed to be reading, or at least attempting to look disinterested, but he can't will himself to turn away.

Gale smiles softly down at her, then begins to move his arms in a way that could only be described as a poor imitation of a wounded bird. Purple light emanates in front of the two of them in response. More magic tricks. Of course. As if that would be enough to impress the woman who’s supposedly been at the receiving end of every imaginable courting attempt in Faerun. 

Astarion rolls his eyes, content to continue his chapter of The Realm According to Bumpo, before he notices Evelyn following suit, imitating the very same motions. She, however, has a grace about her, unlike the bearded beast at her side. Her movements are quick and decisive, abandoning all flattery for precision. The burst of light emanates from her palms, just as it had for the wizard.

She looks pleased. Elated, even. This is the first time he’s seen her smile since she made a fool out of him in her tent, caressing his body and reveling in its reaction, like he was some sort of toy. Though her expression looks different to him now. He can’t quite place his finger on why.

He swallows, attempting to alleviate the tightness in his throat. 

A purple aura starts radiating around them, dancing and swaying in waves, as if the two were surrounded by a flowing channel of lavender, smelling of rosewater; the sun setting over a dark ocean. Even from a distance, the sight pulls at something inside him. An unwelcome ache settles within his chest.

Evelyn turns to the man next to her, unaware that they’ve been drawn closer by the magic enveloping them. She tilts her head back to meet Gale’s gaze. The way he’s looking at her, the flecks of gold in her irises locked with his: deep, brown, and moving, makes Astarion’s skin itch.  

He finds himself wondering what color his own eyes were before his transformation. Were they so seemingly honest, so trustworthy in their melanism, before they became what they are now? Sharp, red, and tinted by bloodlust. Wouldn’t they be boring? 

“You’re staring.”

He’s pulled from his brooding by the sound of Shadowheart’s observation. He hadn’t noticed her approaching him, distracted by that sickening, sweet smell. “Or has the tadpole gifted you with the ability to telepathically commune with books?”

“I’m simply admiring our wizard’s talents.” Astarion says, dismissing her with a wave, “Making sure all those expensive boots and rings haven’t gone to waste. It would be a pity, wouldn’t it? Unnecessarily sacrificing clothes that may have suited you while you’re having to traipse about in a tin can?”

The cleric snickers, “I see. Is that why you look like a kicked pup? Or, are you upset that your master’s replaced you with a new lapdog?” 

He slams the book closed. The sound surprises Evelyn, and the magic surrounding her and Gale dissipates. 

He doesn’t dignify Shadowheart with a response, nor does he spare a second glance at the others before retreating to the quiet solace of his tent.

”That wretched little…” He grumbles to himself as soon as he closes the entrance, tossing Bumpo atop the other novels in his collection, all piled haphazardly on the small desk occupying a corner of his living space. 

This type of reaction was unusual for him. Astarion would normally be happy to engage in petty banter. The more scathing, the better, but Shadowheart had somehow weaseled her way into a tender area. It left him feeling exposed, and a bit nauseated at the idea of allowing someone so clearly beneath himself, at least in terms of wit, to get the better of him. 

Taking a deep breath, Astarion focuses on releasing the tension in his jaw. Best not to let this ruin his entire night, he reasons, before lighting  several half-melted candles littering his quarters. Their flames emanate a soft, golden glow, and the process is meditative enough to finish soothing him. 

He doesn’t have watch tonight, so he allows himself some extra comfort, removing his shirt before sinking down into the soft furs of his bedroll. Astarion closes his eyes to trance, thinking the extra rest will do him some good, but the image of Evelyn rushes back to his mind -  the way her soft lips parted in surprise, realizing her and Gale’s close proximity, and how his gaze flitted down to her mouth in return..

The wizard should be wearing a damn collar around his neck with how she commands his attention. It’s pathetic.

It couldn’t be a matter of coincidence, surely. She must know the effect she has on the man. If Gale harbors feelings for her ( yuck ), even if it were the result of close quarters, Evelyn could use it to her advantage. She had just revealed the effectiveness of similar tactics to him last night, and a powerful wizard would be a powerful ally. 

Whereas, Astarion is just… a vampire spawn. Not even a true vampire. A slave. A nobody.

He rubs his face in frustration. The Sharran did have a point. Astarion may have an insatiable appetite, happy to receive all matters of attention from whatever suitors decide to shower him with it, but what about her? What if Evelyn found him less interesting, less worthy of her time and, subsequently, her protection? 

No. His ego balks at the suggestion. 

Besides, he had felt her lust for him not 24 hours ago. It moved through him as though it was his own, and the taste of her still lingers on his tongue. He heard the hitch in her breath - felt it under his own lips, and reliving the memory still stirs a familiar hunger within him. 

Though, they still haven’t spoken about it. 

The usually quiet, insecure part of him wonders if she’d just rather forget it altogether. He could empathize with that, at least. It’s easy enough for him to imagine their last encounter may have left her feeling disgusted, used.

Guilt worms its way back into his mind, cozying up right next to his tadpole but oh, so much worse . 

He hasn’t felt like this since the beginning of his servitude. He assumed the emotion had been neglected long enough to be left entirely behind him, overshadowed by the threat of whatever new, interesting ways Cazador would think of to torture him at the mere suggestion of disobedience. But here, in the thin veil of safety he’s allowed himself to believe shrouds him, he aches. 

It’s unbecoming.

Instead of resting as he should, Astarion isn’t quite sure how much time he spends ruminating on ways to quietly rid the party of Gale, before he hears the faintest rapping at the canvas of his tent. 

At first, he believes he imagined it, and gives the noise little consideration before settling back into his trance. But then, he hears it again: quick, rapid tapping. A knock. 

It surprises him. He hurriedly moves to stand. In the faint glow of the candlelight, the shadow at his doorstep dances against the closed fabric, smaller than himself and horned. A visit from Evelyn at this hour? Strange.

He undoes the ties and opens his space to her. 

Her hair is undone, dark waves falling over her shoulders and obscuring the marks he gave her. She’s wearing the same clothes she wore to bed last night, the very same black breast band. It smells as if it's been washed, though, with no lingering scent of her blood. Her loose, matching trousers settle high on her waist, just above her navel. She looks exhausted. 

Being run ragged by the events of the day while also having to contend with a missing pint or two of blood may have had more of a negative effect than anticipated. 

Evelyn doesn’t say anything at first, but he catches her eyes glancing at his bare chest before retreating back to his own, cementing themselves there. He raises an eyebrow at her, smirking, and thinks about teasing her. The temptation threatens to get the better of him, but he refrains, not wanting this unexpected visit cut too short. “Need something?”

“I was hoping we could talk.”

Her stare is unwavering, a commitment worthy of admiration.

“Right this way.” Astarion bows slightly towards her, an arm raised behind him to gesture her inside. She steps past him, careful to not brush against his exposed skin. He closes the entrance behind them, shutting out the ambient noise and drowning them in silence. His space is large enough to accommodate himself and his essentials quite comfortably, but it's infinitely smaller with her here.

“I hope I didn’t disturb you.” there is a hoarseness to her voice. She must have woken up just before making her way over.

“No, actually. I was just catching up on some reading.” Not entirely a lie. He had been reading at several points tonight. “What is it you want to discuss? I’m assuming there’s a reason this couldn’t wait until morning, not that I mind.”

“It's about you.”

Oh. No midnight gossip, then.

"I’ve been thinking about how we’re going to continue feeding you.”

“You’ve been up all night tossing and turning because you're concerned about my eating habits?” he responds, unamused, and crosses his arms.

“I have not been tossing and -” she’s about to argue with him, he thinks, but her exasperation causes her to lose her concentration. She breaks eye contact, distracted by the toned curves of his biceps, then snaps her gaze to the floor. “Would you please put on a shirt?”

“Ha!” His laugh is humorless. “I’d like to think we’re well past the point of propriety. Besides, you're in my tent.”

Evelyn pinches the bridge of her nose. “I knew this was a mistake.”

“Come now, darling. Why are you really here?”

She sighs in frustration, as if he should already know.

“I wanted to talk about last night.”

“Ugh, I’ve already apologized. What more do you want?”

A moment passes in uncomfortable silence. He can practically hear the gears grinding in her head as she searches for the right words, and he'd give anything to reach out with his tadpole and take the unfiltered thoughts from her mind. Instead, he takes pity on her.

“Unless, you’re looking for another nibble?” 

It's a joke, a way to clear the tension from the air. Entirely unserious.

She doesn't laugh.

Instead, she looks around the room: first at his assortment of decorative pillows, then to the empty elixir bottles piled in a corner, anywhere but himself. "Well, I - I don’t know.”  She clears her throat. “I just figured after today’s performance, it may be for the best.”

Wait. What?

He stiffens, so taken aback by her suggestion that the elf almost believes he’s still mid-trance. 

“What?” 

“I may be willing to help you again, when necessary.”

She has to be joking.

“You’re joking.”

“No. I’m serious, if it would help.”

“It would.”

“Then, yes.”

They stand almost toe to toe, Astarion once again absorbing her warmth. He hadn’t noticed their height difference the first time they did this, too busy devouring the poor woman like some deranged beast, but it's notable here, on equal footing. Peering up at him, her nose aligns with his collarbones.

"Tonight, then?" she asks.

"Eager, are we?"

She shrugs with indifference, "Just in case we run into any trouble at the goblin camp tomorrow."

The very picture of practicality. What else did he expect?

"Alright, then."

"Alright."

That nagging sensation begins to tug at him again - the very same one he felt as he had stepped out of her tent last night. A weak but unshakeable tension, like a magnet, uncomfortable as it is alluring. The force of it draws his body closer to hers where she stands, hands clenched into fists at her sides.

Underneath her calm exterior, Evelyn’s heart is pounding. Though her breaths are steady, controlled, he can hear it from where he stands. For a moment, those are the only sounds filling the space between them, until the tiefling speaks up.

“You’re tall, for an elf.”

An oddly-timed observation, but a true one. His brother, Petras, was always outwardly envious of him for it. Though, he's not sure why it sounds so flattering coming from her lips.

“How kind of you to notice.” 

She scans the room, searching for something, until she spots the table. Her fingers run along the dark ringlets in the wood, tracing the hardened puddles of forgotten wax, until they reach his heaping pile of books. She taps her fingertips on his leather bound copy of Bumpo . 

“May I?” 

He nods, unsure of what’s been asked of him. 

Evelyn gathers the novels in her arms before piling them carefully onto the floor in a few leveled stacks, clearing the space. ”That should be enough room for one of us to sit,” she says, evenly. 

Then, there is a heavy silence; anticipation. It hangs in the air thick as smoke, twice as suffocating. She's only taken a few steps from him, but it’s as though she’s crossed an ocean. The distance between them begins to develop its own gravitational pull, making the hairs on his arms stand on end.

“Whatever’s most comfortable, dear."

The tiefling nods, then plants herself on the table’s surface, legs hanging over the edge. Evelyn is now eye-level with him, her irises glossy; catching and reflecting what little light dances off the few remaining candles beside her.

She tilts her head at him, expectantly. Her face remains neutral - practiced, as though she feels nothing at all; as if she isn’t trying to drive him mad.

She’s back to playing her little games.

Fine.

Astarion’s posture straightens as he strides towards her, confidently closing their distance. He places his hands at her sides, not quite touching her, but still close enough to feel the heat emanating from her body, even through her clothes.  

“Now, where would you like it?” The question sounds innocent enough, but the double meaning is not lost on her. 

Her grip tightens at the table’s edge, knuckles whitening. 

His head tilts downwards, looming over her like a predator, and the scent of vanilla invades his nostrils. The sweetness settles on his palate before spreading across his tongue, coating it with a rum-like burn. He runs the flavor over the sharp edges of his teeth.

"I could do it here," he whispers, dipping his nose and running the tip of it along her nape. He quietly revels in how she prickles beneath him, her body betraying her feigned indifference.

"Or, here." One of his thumbs trace the flat of her wrist in slow, circular motions, causing the pulse beneath it to flutter.

"Or…" His other hand slides atop her knee, fingers gripping and parting her thighs just slightly…

She snaps them shut.

"Just do it, dickhead."

He hums a laugh. 

“As you wish.” 

The cool brush of Astarion’s lips on her neck has Evelyn’s heart racing, a frantic drum beating against his ears. It’s just as intoxicating as he remembers, threatening to muddle the edges of his mind. “Just try to keep still for me.” he whispers.

The warning is sincere, but the stubborn woman misinterprets him. Thinking he’s toying with her, she opens her mouth, intent on insulting him, but stops short, whining pitifully when his fangs break the surface of her skin. Her body flinches at the initial discomfort, but otherwise remains virtually motionless; compliant.

Drinking from her now feels like an entirely new experience. This time, he anticipates the raging current - knows how to find his footing. Rather than being ripped under, it feels as though Astarion is floating, enveloped in warmth unlike any he’s ever known. At best, he would imagine it similar to a hug, had he ever been on the receiving end of one.

He begins to lap at the wound to keep it from closing, the press and drag of his tongue drawing out a few small, involuntary twitches from the girl. She’s being so good for him, staying put like she’d been told; fighting her own restlessness, the urge to squirm in place.

If only she would allow him to reward her, to offer his body in exchange for this endless parade of favors, he would take the chance in a heartbeat. It would be so, so easy with her, unlike any miserable encounter he’d been forced into partaking in the last few centuries. He knows he would enjoy her body, along with all the lovely little sounds she would make for him; the temporary bliss.

And it would be a fair price to pay for keeping him safe, fed, and warm . 

The mental image has Astarion’s hand moving without his knowledge, too engrossed to notice his own palm caressing the side of her face. His thumb traces the edge of her cheek as he holds her there, allowing the weight of her head to rest against his fingers. Dark strands of hair brush against his knuckles, bringing him back to the present.

He thinks Evelyn hasn’t noticed yet, believes himself safe to correct the mistake without any mutual discomfort.

Which leaves him infinitely more overwhelmed when her smaller hand grazes up the length of his arm, wrapping it around his wrist to keep it in place. Her body relaxes into his touch, seemingly more grounded. 

The intimacy is like a punch to the chest.

She’s suddenly too close for comfort. It’s claustrophobic - suffocating, strangling him along with whatever sense he had left, apparently. That damned vanilla, the dizzying scent of her blood -

Air, he thinks, I just need some fresh air.

Astarion pulls away from her, readying an apology and an excuse to swiftly dismiss the woman. 

But when Evelyn meets his gaze, the words die prematurely.  

She is a vision , freckles dappling her skin like star-covered porcelain, now flushed red from nose to cheeks. The whites of her eyes have gone glossy, dazed and dream-like, tempting him further into her space.

Her tongue darts out to wet her parted lips, the small gesture commanding his attention. He finds himself entirely fixated on them, as if it would take another life-altering, unnatural disaster to pull his focus away. 

Evelyn’s lashes flutter in recognition, then she quickly releases his wrist. The residual heat fades before he can appreciate it, leaving him cold once again. 

“Oh, sorry.” 

“My apologies."

Their speech overlaps, then silence fills the room again, and they are left to stare at each other. His hands suddenly feel much too idle at his sides, itching. He throws on a polite smile, a familiar mask, but the expression doesn't quite reach his eyes.

Astarion has never been one to look a gift horse in the mouth. His hunger is sated, and he should feel satisfied. He should feel like a new man. 

So why, then, does he only feel this intolerable weight in his chest?

Why does his stomach turn at the idea of her so carelessly offering herself up to any vampire spawn, let alone himself , despite the obvious danger? 

Why is he so deeply frustrated by her lack of self preservation?

Isn’t this exactly what he wanted; to have her crawling back for more?

He can't help but wonder if this sudden apprehension is part of her little plan: to confuse him, drive him to distraction, then bring him to his knees like every other unfortunate man she’s had in her sights before robbing them and tossing them aside.

Out-seducing a vampire would admittedly be an admirable feat, but why? What could her angle be, when Astarion has nothing to offer her? 

“Are you alright? You look… lost.” 

He blinks back to the present. 

“I - ” He coughs, " Ahem . Yes, dear. Of course.” 

Hot, crimson streaks drip down the sharp bone of his chin. He springs into action, away from her unfavorable concern, and grabs his nightshirt from off the floor behind him. He has just the one, beautifully embroidered and sewn back together countless times by his own hands, now being used in place of a common napkin. 

Evelyn gasps. The sound is like ice, piercing his chest when he realizes his mistake. The devil’s never seen him without a shirt on before now. Meaning, she had never bore witness to the elaborate poem carved into his back - ugly, raised scars painting his flesh and soiling his otherwise perfectly sculpted muscle. 

He regrets not humoring her request to redress earlier. 

The elf plays off the noise as if he hadn’t heard it, turning to hand her the clothes and hoping she knows better than to mention anything of it. She silently takes the garment from him and places it where he had bitten her. A blooming red stain soaks into the pale fabric. He’ll have to work on getting it out for the next several days, if it decides to come out at all.

Evelyn finally moves to stand, teetering a bit from lightheadedness. Astarion reaches out to steady her, but she shakes her head, declining. 

“I’m okay.”

He retracts his hand. The damned thing’s gotten him into enough trouble tonight already. 

“Well then, you should get some rest.” 

She scoffs, “Wow, not even a thank you?”

He lowers his voice, practically growling at her, “My dear, if you’d allow me to properly thank you, you wouldn’t be leaving this tent. Maybe not for the next week, if I’m feeling generous.”

A pretty little flush once again spreads across her face. He’s rather pleased with himself, thinking he’s finally stunned her. 

“And if you weren’t feeling generous?”

Rising to meet him, then. She is playing a very dangerous game.

Astarion closes what little distance there is left between them and grabs her face by the jaw, grip firm . The force has her stumbling, the back of her thighs meeting the hard edge of the table. Wood digs into her skin as the legs grate loudly against his decorative rugs, shifting from the sudden push.

Evelyn’s eyes shut, brows furrowed and panting as she clutches his forearms to steady herself.

To his wicked delight, she does not pull away.

His thumb drags over her bottom lip. The effort she’s expending not to whine at his gentle touch has him reeling. Her skin burns beneath his palms. 

“Then, I’d strip you, tie your limbs to this desk,” he murmurs against her lips, before tilting to whisper his confession hot in her ear. 

“And you wouldn’t be leaving this tent. Ever . ”

He abruptly releases her, turning away and waving her off. 

“Now, go. We have a big day tomorrow.”

Not sparing the woman a glance, he begins gathering his books and setting them back onto the table beside her.

She says nothing in response, but he hears her tear open the entrance to his tent and step out into the night.

[dameronalone]

The post you just reblogged about infantilizing autistic characters and specifically Steven Grant is actually one of my favorite things ever and I wished people talked about it more. I remember watching MK when it first came out and seeing Steven and being like omg he’s just like me!! because a lot of the times I don’t really connect with autistic characters for one reason or another but seeing Steven and seeing him have the same mannerisms and characteristics as me was so so wonderful and the fandom was great at first and it seems like the more time passes and the farther we get from when the show stopped having new episodes, he gets characterized so differently than how he was in the show. Like yeah he was awkward and unsure around Layla but also look at the circumstances!! Everyone’s turned him into an uwu baby child and forget that he got angry and he was smart and he was brave and he was an adult man and not a child regardless of him being autistic. Idk, I just really liked that post and I was so glad to see someone on the same page as me and I wanted to share my thoughts lmao

dearest anon you are more than welcome to come in my inbox and talk abt Steven, autism, and how irritating fandom ableism is, because I'm always ready to talk about any of it. I'm glad that you felt seen by my frustration! a lot of times I'll mention it or even post about it and it's like yelling into the void

I think the wonderful thing about Steven is that he feels so authentically autistic, him and Marc both (and im assuming Jake as well, but it's just too soon to tell in which ways he will experience/be visibly autistic) and I think that's both the uprising and the downfall of it because in not using the word "autistic" in the show it paves the way both for genuine connection AND the surface level ableist "aw steven" mentality we see a lot now

i was watching the first two episodes the other day, mostly because I'm rewatching for Steven- an aside, but fandom had honestly put me off Steven. ofc I loved him so much but I couldn't truly connect because the (imho) accurate Steven that I liked to think about and analyze is NOT the Steven we see in 98% of fanfiction or tumblr posts. but anyway I was watching the first two episodes and I gotta say, for as much nervous stuttering as he does in fanfiction, he really- listen I think he does a reasonable amount of nervous stuttering when he is IN truly stressful situations that have him completely off kilter.

you can't really script your way out of a conversation with a creepy guy trying to tell you abt his lord and savior ammit the croc

anyway. all this to say, I completely understand where you're coming from and I'm really glad you felt seen in my own frustration. it's always validating to see someone else verbalizing a deep rooted but glossed over issue that bothers you

just!! reiterating your point!! he's knowledgeable!!! he's angry!!! he's incredibly brave!!!! he's not afraid to stand up to Marc or khonshu or harrow or anybody!!!! he's an adult man with a job and a place to live!!! that doesn't make him any better or worse than someone who may not have a job BUT people just love to turn autistic ppl into helpless little uwu babies and its SO obnoxious and irritating and insulting. he IS capable!! Steven is SASSY he is a BITCH he fantasizes about killing his boss!!!!! he bargined the world for marc (and his) freedom!!!! hello?????

steven would not like the majority of the people who claim to like him..

at any rate lmao. my inbox is always open!! happy to talk 🫶

[cluelessatthispoint]

I just saw a video of some cupcakes and for some reason it reminded me of your blog, probably bc of your pfp. Anyways, im not sure if requests are open so my bad if they aren't, but I was wondering if I could ask for something for Yandere Engineer with a reader who is a Soldier from the opposite team. Idk there is something about the idea that makes the worms in my head go crazy, once again sorry if requests are closed hope you have a nice week 👍

I love this! YAY CUPCAKES! Yes, requests are still open! yandere Engie is the fuel that I live off of.

~~~~~~

Battle was always something you looked forward to. It is a good way to de-stress and a great way to earn some money. The way that you can feel every breath you take and how your lungs burn after running for an ungodly amount of time make you feel alive. In a strange sort of masochistic way. It's not necessarily a bad thing to enjoy the feeling of pain. Pain is the body's way of saying "I'm still alive!" But these past few battles...have been rough. On top of the fact that your team lost about three times this week, you've been taken out by an extremely well-placed sentry more times than you can count.

Hearing how the enemy Engineer laughed to himself as you bleed out on the field sent chills down your spine. He placed sentries in all your spots, and he seemed to be only targeting you. The way he smiled when staring at you locked in a fire fight. How he seemed to cock his head slightly to the left as he stared you down in your final moments before respawning...It was unsettling.

But today is a new day. Checking in with the team and making a battle plan was always the best part of the morning. Finally at long last the sights and smells of the battlefield enveloped your senses. The enemy Engineer and his nest being nowhere in visible sight was a comfort.

Running through the warzone you moved with stealth that was more fitting of a Spy. The way your heartbeat within your ribcage felt near painful. You let out a shaky breath that you didn't know that you were holding in. Ducking under a makeshift lean to you moved forward and check your surroundings.

"Thank God that jerk isn't here."

Slowly walking forward, you scan the area then take another few steps then scan the area again. Finally finding yourself in a winding corridor with dark musty walls you make your way carefully towards where the enemy intelligence is stationed.

"Well, hey there Soldier....You going somewhere?"

Your blood freezes in place. Your eyes widen as you recognize the owner of the voice, that familiar rough Texan accent makes you inhale shallowly. Slowly putting your hands up you turn around slowly. The sound of a gun cocking makes fear shoot up your spine. The enemy Engineer slowly walks over to you. The sharp smell of his alcohol on his breath reaching your nose make your stomach turn. He stops walking when you both are face to face and chest to chest. You can feel his body heat through your layers of clothing. His sudden closeness to you makes your face flush slightly. But the feeling of the barrel of his gun pressing into your lower abdomen makes you still.

"Well now, it's good to see my little Soldier so close to my intel."

You glare into his eyes as he calls you his little Soldier. A flare of anger wells up in the pit of your stomach, only the threat of the gun pressing to your abdomen keeping you still.

"What the hell do you want Engineer.." You grit your teeth as you speak. The way his eyes shine with a dangerous glint makes you bite your lip softly. You can't help but feel nervous...like a new wide-eyed recruit.

He chuckles softly and a sudden shot rings out. The sudden noise, and the flash of pain make you yelp out in surprise and pain. White hot pain spreads up your leg and you slump against the wall behind you. Tears fall from your eyes and your breaths are hard and ragged. Staring up at the enemy Engineer through your tears you see him crouch down before you. His face so terribly close to yours. Feeling his moist warm breath ghost over your face you whimper and grunt out each breath with pain.

"Don't worry Darling...I won't kill you. Not today. I just wanted some company for today's battle. And when it's over I consider sending you through respawn."

You huff softly and relax as much as you are able to. You figure that you might as well get comfortable because you won't be leaving anytime soon.

~~~

[peachielabel]

Trust Me Not AU Character Stuff

Ok ok so I was going to wait for my boyfriend and just keep posting art, but he’s going to be busy for a while so I’m just gonna do this!! Also…I warned y’all that this was a lot of text…so <3

I’m doing the major relationship/personality changes, so characters we haven’t planned on changing or haven’t gotten to yet won’t get things. Mostly, the characters that I’m talking about are Sword, Rocket, Medkit, Zuka, and Broker. I may mention Venomshank, Ban Hammer, and Darkheart, but they haven’t changed much? They’re just here as of now. Crazy how we haven’t planned anything for the Blackrock phighters, especially because this is a Blackrock centered AU…

I don’t really have art to go with this…! Though I may draft it and make doodles (you’ll be able to see if I did lol, only one who has a crazy different design at the moment is Rocket though, so). Anyway! Ramble central time…

Rocket:

Rocket’s personality is still very chaotic. He’s hyper, though he’s a little more violent than before (more because of pent-up anger than actual aggression). His temper seems to be easily triggered and he’s very quick to snap back with dry humor or sharp retorts. Honestly, he’s still Rocket, he just has more temper and attitude caused by him trying to burry emotions and come off as “tough enough” to be in Blackrock (and to help himself deal with the choice he made to abandon everyone he cared about just because he was upset).

Rocket’s relationship with his father is rocky at best, not because he doesn’t love Zuka, but because of the chain of arguments they had that led to Rocket running away. Rocket’s mad at Zuka for banning him from phights for what he sees as “a dumb reason” (he was involved in an accident that blew off part of his horn…and almost did worse). He feels like Zuka’s taken away one of his favorite things unwarranted, and the constant scolding for the week after his grounding wasn’t helpful. This anger towards Zuka is why Rocket stops carving his horns once he runs away.

Rocket’s relationship with Sword is still very important to him, despite his very obvious efforts to push Sword away (this is a Swocket AU…idk what y’all expected 😣). He was never mad at Sword, but he felt he needed space, even if that space allowed his thoughts to wander and gave him horrible ideas. He cares very much for Sword, and abandoning him was a hard decision for Rocket, but he felt like if he was going to go through with running away to Blackrock he had to cut all ties. The reason he doesn’t kill Sword during all their encounters is because he cares for him, though he still wounds him as a way of warning him to keep away (which doesn’t work). He’s absolutely crushed when he kills Sword, it was completely unintentional and it’s a very harsh wake-up call.

Rocket’s relationship with Broker hasn’t changed much, though tension has eased slightly (or it had before Rocket ran away). Rocket appreciated how Broker had laid off him though, even if Zuka didn’t. He’s not as mad at Broker as he is at Zuka.

Rocket’s relationship with Medkit doesn’t change until after Sword’s death. He’s currently on the run from Medkit, and he’s rather intimidated by him. Rocket understands his life is on the line more so now than it was before.

Rocket has Ban Hammer on speed dial…that…that is all…

Sword:

Sword’s a lot more tired and visibly stressed now. The others are getting more worried about his mental state as he seems to be coming apart at the seams. His thoughts are more scrambled and his head is fuzzy. He’s trying his best here guys…

Sword has been getting very close with Zuka, spending more time with him than with his own father (but like, when did he really hang out with his father to begin with?). Part of Sword wants to be upset with Zuka for how hard he was on Rocket, but he can’t bring himself to do it because he was also worried for Rocket’s safety and he knows how guilty and upset Zuka feels. He promises to try and reach Rocket to mend the relationship.

Sword’s relationship with Rocket is a hot mess right now. He cares so much for Rocket, and this situation is tearing him apart from the inside out. He feels extremely guilty and responsible for Rocket running away because he believes he didn’t try hard enough to reach through to Rocket while he was clearly hurting and upset. His forced optimism that his Rocket is still in there despite everyone telling him otherwise pushes him to romanticize the fights they have, often letting Rocket win intentionally because he doesn’t want to hurt Rocket…even though it’s very obvious Rocket is willing to hurt him. While his head is more clear while he’s around Rocket, he lets his emotions cloud his judgement, which ends up in his death. He has a moment of clarity right before he dies, sharing his feelings with Rocket as his final words.

Sword is skeptical of Broker still, he keeps Rocket’s dislike for the demon in mind when around him. Though, he’s beginning to wonder why Rocket has such a strong hatred for him. He’s witnessed Broker seem genuinely worried for Zuka (often trying to find ways to cheer him up) and knows he’s been trying to find Rocket himself. He has tried to stay optimistic and have faith in Broker.

Sword trusts Medkit with his life, sharing all of his concerns and anxieties with him. He feels the most safe when he’s around Medkit now that he doesn’t have Rocket (they still have that brother-like relationship, that’s based and is NOT going anywhere).

Sword’s relationship with Venomshank is very poor. Venomshank is the main demon telling Sword to give up on Rocket, so he’s not too pleased with him at the moment. Despite their rocky relationship, Sword tries his best to impress his father.

Medkit:

Medkit’s personality does not change until after Sword’s death. He becomes more irrational in his thinking and rather impulsive (acting out of greif). This leads him to be increasingly more reckless and aggressive.

Medkit feels bad for Zuka, offering his assistance in trying to find Rocket. He ends up getting captured by Ban Hammer because of this. While he respects Zuka, he grows rather frustrated with him once Sword dies, claiming that Zuka should not shelter Rocket and that he must be accountable for his actions. He doesn’t do anything to intentionally harm/upset Zuka, though he understands that his actions will do so anyway.

Medkit cares deeply about Sword, seeing him as a little brother and someone he has to look out for (no matter how reckless or irritating he can be). Watching Sword suffer so much made Medkit wish he could help more, which leads to him agreeing to help in the search. He misses Sword very much and has made it his goal to avenge his death.

Medkit doesn’t want to trust Broker, but he does. He’s seen how Broker’s been trying his best to find Rocket (and how he helped Medkit escape Banlands) and tries his best to put his personal opinions aside for the time being. However, he wishes Broker wouldn’t let Zuka coddle Rocket as much as he does (after Sword’s death).

Medkit felt bad for Rocket initially, he really wanted to believe that things would work out, even despite the fact that Rocket gets him arrested by Ban Hammer. However, after he learned Rocket had killed Sword, it didn’t matter if it was intentional or not, he felt things had gone too far. He feels Rocket isn’t taking the effects of his actions to heart as much as he should, and hopes to avenge Sword by bringing Rocket to justice…whatever that means…

He’s not fond of Venomshank. He feels that his parenting needs to be heavily improved upon (big brother instincts, we love to see it). After Sword’s death, Medkit is disgusted by the fact that Venomshank seems rather indifferent, saying that Sword “should’ve heeded the warnings.” If he wasn’t preoccupied trying to take down Rocket, Venomshank would be labeled as “the problem” and probably “the target”…

Medkit constantly complains about how Scythe will have his head for how much time he’s devoting to this mess. He seems intimidated by her more than truly being afraid of her.

Broker:

Broker is Broker (he hasn’t been changed much, he’s one of our WIP characters)! Most of his personality changes consist of caring about Zuka’s well-being. While it seems like he’s trying to improve on expressing empathy, he’s still heavily manipulative and sly, leading to everyone wondering how much he actually cares about the situation.

BrokerZuka ended up canon here…so bear with me…(😞/silly). Broker feels the need to constantly check-up on Zuka. He tries to tell Zuka that this isn’t his fault, but to no avail. Zuka seems to be the only one he obviously cares for, as he constantly is much gentler and empathetic towards Zuka. After Sword’s death, he took a step back from meddling in Zuka and Rocket’s relationship, allowing Zuka to handle it how he saw fit. He doesn’t feel like Zuka is handling it right, but he doesn’t want to upset anyone after all that’s happened.

Broker knows Sword is upset. He’s tried to have small chats about things with him, but is often brushed off, much to his frustration. He can tell Sword is trying to warm up to him, which he appreciates, but it’s still very obvious that Sword doesn’t trust him entirely. In an attempt to keep things lighthearted, he frequently tries to tease Sword and crack jokes (Sword doesn’t act like he enjoys it though).

He knows Rocket dislikes him, but he still tries to bond with him…definitely just for Zuka’s sake. While he agreed that Rocket should’ve been more careful, Broker began to take notice of how the constant criticism and arguing began to weigh on the kid. He stopped taking Zuka’s side and just started staying out of it. He tried to talk to Rocket multiple times, but he would get brushed off and blocked out. When Rocket ran away, he decided to take matters into his own hands (after Rocket gets Medkit captured by Ban Hammer). He thought that talking to Rocket would fix things, though he is frustrated when he is shut down again (and joins Medkit in Banlands). After Sword’s death, Broker is distant from Rocket in an attempt to give him space. He feels bad, but knows that nothing will get Rocket to talk to him.

Broker teases and toys with Medkit in an attempt to keep things relatively “normal” between them. After Sword’s death, he began keeping a closer eye on Medkit because he knew how close he had been with Sword. Upon learning about Medkit’s plans to deal with Rocket, Broker starts being more prickly around him. He’s trying to come up with a way to deal with Medkit before anything happens.

Ban Hammer…when I catch you Ban Hammer…when I catch you…

Broker is pushing his luck with Scythe due to how much time (and resources) he’s putting inti finding Rocket. He knows Scythe is already annoyed about Medkit spending time on this rather than on his mission, and Broker can tell she isn’t pleased with him either. He’s trying to keep her from flipping her top.

Zuka:

(Another WIP character) Zuka is rather reserved and quiet. He’s constantly tired and always seems ridden with guilt. It’s very obvious he fears the worst and blames himself. He seems to drag himself around all day trying to “fix” the issue himself. While he would like to go solo, he’s made it obvious that he can’t.

Zuka’s relationship with Rocket isn’t the best. He’s very concerned for Rocket, though he doesn’t express it properly and it leads to several minor conflicts. He feels extremely guilty about Rocket running away, and watching Rocket go to Blackrock was a personal blow to Zuka (it affected him a lot more than he’d like to admit, especially the way that Rocket changed his whole appearance). After Sword’s death, he attempts to comfort Rocket, though it comes off more as babying. He’s very worried about Rocket’s mental state.

Zuka really appreciates how Sword is trying to stay positive in this situation. He can tell how stressful and upsetting it is for Sword, so he tries to be understanding and patient with him (even though half the time it comes off as Zuka just being too tired to fully care). He feels bad that Sword is beating himself up about Rocket leaving and makes attempts to cheer him up frequently.

Broker is the one demon that Zuka seems to confide in. He doesn’t want to seem like a burden/worry Broker, but Broker clearly sees through it. Zuka takes comfort in how Broker tries to help him through this whole thing no matter how many times he tries to say he’s fine. Even though Zuka tries to hide it, Broker always ends up getting him to spill his feelings. He’s grateful Broker is willing to help as much as he is, and he’s even more grateful he has someone with him during this.

Zuka appreciates Medkit’s help as much as he appreciates everyone else’s. He knows Medkit is helping more because he wants to help Sword, but that doesn’t matter to Zuka…until Sword dies. Broker informed Zuka about Medkit’s plans, so Zuka’s trust for Medkit is almost completely gone. He’s cautious around Medkit and avoids bringing up Rocket.

Zuka is two seconds from storming up to Scythe and telling her to calm down/j unless…

[cptnjeanlucpicard]

(Picard and the internal conflict of having feelings for Q and knowing the chaos and everything Q he is going to invite into his life and unto his ship and crew if tells Q about them. Having the embarrassing want to be with Q while also knowing that if this visible lipstick is Q 'teasing' then Q is going to make their actual relationship very, very public. Entity is already a bit possessive now and they are not even actually 'romantically involved')

[ yeah i feel like theres also a great deal of shame there too. bc hes like "i couldve had a wife i couldve had a normal family but the circumstances and my own choices always lead me away from that but now im starting to realise maybe i never really wanted that at all and i wanted someone like q and thats scary". and the idea that when he FINALLY commits to a long term relationship its with basically god but gay and kind of embarrassing??? idk i feel like hed always have super complicated feelings about it. plus also he is the type to creep around about a relationship (obv people like data (accidentally) and riker (on purpose) would spread around that the captains in a relationship no matter who his partner is) and then like you said q is the type to be extremely jealous and open and LOUD about how much he loves someone. it just seems like he would find the entire premise of really opening up and accepting qs love and starting a relationship with him and being OPEN ABOUT HIS PERSONAL LIFE to be extremely stressful and hes grasping at straws to find "legitimate" reasons to not do it since hes always been told romance is what you SHOULD do!! if you have feelings for someone thats the MOST IMPORTANT THING!!! ]

[ idk maybe im just projecting but i feel like theres like. layers of trauma and intimacy issues and internalised aphobia/biphobia getting in the way of qcard. and qs 100% willing to help picard through that if picard asks i think (q really does love picard and wants him to know that), its just that picard is stubborn and a former gifted kid and cannot ask for help from someone hes holding a grudge against unless hes backed into a wall ]

[symptoms-syndrome]

Im like, rly upset w myself abt this so I'm gonna write about it. Comments or whatever welcome.

Basically, a friend/drag king I rly respect (I'll call him M) recommended me to a drag king who's like, a moderately big deal, a really big deal to me because of a lot of reasons (I'll call him W) to help him out with an event on Saturday evening. It was super last minute (I was reached out to on Friday evening) but I thought we had all the details figured out.

I got there at 6:45-ish, when I initially said I'd aim for 6:30, which is admittedly my bad. I'm very used to working with queens where "arrive at 7" means "arrive before 8." But I do try to be early. I'm usually the first person to arrive to a gig. W was kind of upset about it (he said he didn't feel comfortable paying me the full amount we agreed on, which is fair) and I feel like it threw me off all night. I felt sort of lost just following him around and stuff.

At one point (before he went out to the event) he held both my hands, looked at me, and asked me if I was gonna be okay. I blurted out that I was mad at myself for being late, that I didn't want him to think I didn't respect him and stuff. He asked me if I'd be able to forgive myself. I said I'd try. He seemed extremely kind but I'm really bad at reading people so I was worried he was frustrated with me, I don't know how visibly I was flustered.

He seemed chill the rest of the night. A little stressed, but it was a big event so that's understandable. We chatted and stuff when I knew I wasn't distracting him. He asked me what stuff was going on, said he wanted to go out somewhere afterwards where someone could buy us drinks. Specifically he wanted to know about the lesbian scene, which TBH I'm not super privy to outside of a few specific events. We ended up seeing some folks from the conference who bought us drinks at the hotel bar. Chatted with them really late into the night which was nice. Took some video/pics together for the social medias.

In the end he ended up paying me the full amount agreed on even though he initially said he didn't feel comfortable doing that. I asked him if he wanted me to send any back, but he didn't respond to that. We've been chatting and stuff online though, so it's not like he's just flat out ignoring me.

I just can't shake the feeling I really disappointed him. I failed at my job that was really important. I respect this performer so so so much for a lot of reasons and I was really looking forward to showing him my best even though I wasn't performing.

Part of me wants to like. Pester him. Ask him if he still likes me or whatever. It seems like he does but he was definitely upset about me being late. I just can't shake the feeling I really disappointed him. I made a bad impression and it feels like I betrayed M's trust as well because he was the one who recommended me.

It might also have something to do with him being way older than me (40s?) Like it feels so much worse to disappoint him because he's been doing drag for like 20+ years and I feel like I wanna show him how very very very much I respect him. IDK this all comes down to respect. I want to show respect and feel I failed in doing so.

[blueopinions49]

[X] Pearl ESFP 3w2 so/sx

Zodiac: Pisces 

(this will have spoilers for the movie)

MBTI 

ESFP (Se-Fi-Te-Ni) 

Se (Extroverted Sensing)

I don't think there is any doubt that Pearl is an Se. No not because of aggressive behavior or impulsive tendencies but rather how much she constantly focuses on the present time. She tends to assess things at the moment and not thinking the future. Unlike an XNXJ she doesn't  seem to focus on a future idealistic self for a reason but rather is constantly trying to push for a better present. As seen as her ambition for moving away from her farm house. 

Fi (Introverted Feeling) 

Pearls Fi couldn't be more overstated. I originally considered typing her as an ISFP due to how much we see it however I believe pearl doesnt lead with her Fi but rather what is in the current moment. Pearls Fi is shown all throughout the film we see what her emotional needs are and she holds them very close to her. In her Monologue at the end of movie she expresses all of her frustrations on how lonely she feels. This monologue maps out her Fi and how much she wants a better life for her self (probably one of the better monologues this year Mia Goth deserves an award). 

Te (Extroverted Thinking)

While her Te isn't very presented in the movie her processes seem very much Se-Te oriented. When Pearl enters stress mode she tries to solve things hastily and trying to get things done very quickly. She becomes worrisome and tries to hide her crimes. Due to this she tends to be very forgetful and doesnt even remember saying things. For example when she is hiding her mothers body downstairs she quickly forgets she lied about it being a dog. This is an occurrence multiple times in the movie. 

Ni (Introverted Intuition) 

While Pearl doesn't seem to use her Ni as much as she should she still uses it or at least has some of her Ni visible. Going back to her final  monologue she looks inward to her emotional state and talks about the dyer consequences she has around other peoples life. She seems to understand how she wants to have the idealize life but can't due to her circumstances. 

Enneagram: 3w2 so/sx 

There is no doubt in my mind that pearl is a social type 3. She craves admiration from others and wants status as a way out of her life in the farm. However people have seemed to take the line “I want to be loved by most people as possible” (or something along those lines) to mean that she is a 2w3 sx/sp however I believe this is just bad media literacy and poor comprehension of the enneagram (sorry if this sounds crude). The arguments tend to compare Maxine and Pearl however they clearly don't understand that both of these charcaters are social threes at their very core. Both of them crave status and admiration from others. They both try ignore their inner turmoil rather than deal with it like a type 2. Enneagram type 2 sx (to be specific) care about submitting themselves into a rose tinted version for someone (Maddy Perez is a great example of a 2w3 sx/sp who's core motivating drive is to be loved by someone while creating an image of perfection). While pearl craves the status first therefore 3w2>2w3. Also Side tangent I've noticed that 3w2s get their ambition downplayed allot in comparison to 3w4s. In X (2022) we can see how maxine has disintegrated into 9 and become fully detached from reality. Some other quotes that her an Maxine share are the iconic “im a star”. Idk I just don't get how a character like pearl who's wants and needs are so on the nose can go over peoples head due to one quote from the trailer. 

Next is Laurie Strode...

[myretransitiondiary]

This is me when I was Joey. I know it might sound strange, but I feel as if I miss Joey like I miss a friend who just.. disappeared? Well I guess what happened was I morphed my female and male sides into one package in the body I have now. After all, most people assume I am a trans woman in the traditional sense when they meet me based off of my low voice, visible Adams apple and stubble that I shave each morning now.

In case you're confused by the photos, this is me when I was a trans man. I was a drag queen when I was a trans man, if you can't tell haha. I was doing all of this when it was not something people did. I love Joey for how brave he was and how beautiful I was as a man. Not that I am not beautiful now, but being a dashing, passing, white, gay trans man is a feeling... Makes you feel hot and famous because somehow everyone seems to know who you are even if you don't know them. Well it was like that back then in 2013 haha 🤣 idk. Point is, I loved Joey and still love him.

He will always be a big part of me. I miss him and I wish I could switch between looking as I do now, and looking like Joey. I feel very two spirit, leaning feminine. Even as a man, I was very feminine in my behaviors and attitudes.

Sometimes people ask me if I think I'll regret retransitioning later on in life. And honestly, sometimes I wonder that myself. But where I am now in life and with everything I've done and experienced, I've decided I no longer wish to take hormones to keep myself looking any certain way. I would rather go with the flow of my body and mind and express myself accordingly. That's just me by the way!! I'm not speaking for anyone else but myself and my own journey and life experience.

And tbh, if I ever decided that I wanted to transition back to being a man, I'd just do it. I don't think that we make "mistakes" transitioning, whether or not one decides to transition again afterwards. Gender has been a journey for me, not a destination. And it might always be that way for me! I'm okay with that. But currently and for the unforeseen future I am very comfortable in my transfeminine body and how I look and present.

Although the aging process is a little tedious and stressful now that I've started to notice myself aging a little in my appearance. Aging as a woman. I never pictured myself as an old woman. Aging into an old man always made more sense to me than the alternative and made me feel a lot more comfortable with aging. The fact that I will be an old woman possibly, is crazy. Never thought that would happen.

I wanted to be a boy since before I can remember. 3 or 4 probably. And that never changed until after 4 years on testosterone. I have to admit, the first reason for me stopping testosterone was convenience, because my hair was falling out fast (lol) and also I wanted to have sex as a female, which I had never done before low key high key. A big for my second transition was because of my sexuality, but honestly I just stopped... Giving a fuck about my gender and decided to stop T. That's what happened! Idk! That's all I can say without getting more intimate about my sexual history than I'm ready to say right now.

Dear Joey,

I love you so much! You are with me always, you are never gone. You will always be my dear friend.

[littleroaes]

oh darling, take my heart! ( heart attack ), k.sw & jc.b

a retelling of yves & chuu, heart attack, loona ( chuu )

“ 𝐝𝐢𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐢𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐝 “

To save Sunwoo from his own self destruction by his undying love for Y/n as he admires her but cannot get her attention. His guardian angel comes to his side in human form to prevent the inevitable fall from Eden. Though the desperation for his preservation might just come from the egoistic wounds of his heart and the awareness of the ugliest fall of them all, it being his own.

PAIRING ⏵ ( 3rd pov, she/ her ) kim sunwoo x fem!reader, guardian angel!jacob not a love triangle

GENRE ⏵ fluff, slight angst, one sided pining, unrequited love ( not all the way through ), comedy/ crack ( hopefully ), sunwoo is down so bad, and he’s stubborn as heck, not a love triangle, slight fantasy, jacob is stressed bc of sunwoo, sweetheart!Jacob, winter!au, college!au but they’re just in the library and walk between lectures and have own apartments lol( F EXAMS ), epic bromance, epic eric feature, not as epic changmin feature, europe aesthetic ( this is a candlestick idk how widespread they are )

WARNINGS ⏵ y/n is just a little evil, loonaverse lore ( lol ), romanticised college!au bc I don’t want to write my reality 🫠, surface level world building ( don't ask me about the angel lore ), y/n & sw calls jacob angel & cupid either teasingly/mockingly/literally, y/n refers to sunwoo as loverboy once, sunwoo swears like three times, sunwoo calls people losers, heart attack by chuu is very gay mine is not😭, proofread twice

WORD COUNT ⏵ 18.8 k ( I’m so sorry )

new banner style!( so proud! ). for some reason I was hellbent on getting this out before christmas, but it’s really not that christmassy😭. the heart attack mv tells a story about chuu's undying love for yves. the post below includes spoilers, but but will clarify this story in connection to the mv. it will be linked at the end too! please enjoy!

story ( symbolism & metaphor ) guide

like and reblog are highly encouraged!

THIS WORLD HAS CHANGED ITS COLORS, DRIFTING FURTHER FROM THE SUN IN PRESENT SEASON.

As Eden has turned its axis away from the warmth, the trees stand with a single color. Instead of fruits in shine and leaves that paint the part in between world and heaven, its colors have, from the crowns, spread and blossomed over its people. The fabric of one's jacket and scarf decorates the boulevard down to the open square at the very center of the city.

Though, someone in cobalt blue seems to not follow the fast paced world around him. Jacob walks gently over the frozen mirror layered on top of the summer stone. His new body concealed in a jacket in that cobalt blue. To look out over the two streets and the cars driving in between, he observes how each silhouette before and behind him walks past him without a single glance or wrong step. Jacob looks down again, sees the reflection of daylight on the frost as his right foot takes another step forward. 

Last month, Jacob sat in his new bed, in his new room, in a new city. Picked apart the sharp lines on the telephone screen to figure out exactly the right passage to the blue dot. How time has moved forward without him, since he last stepped onto the fixed ground and stood before the mortals as a real figure. Jacob used to stand perfectly visible in a full crowd all the more frequently in the past. The little boy he guarded back then refused to learn how to stand up for two seconds before starting to run. At seven, during the midst of the summer season on an afternoon picnic, Sunwoo had managed to climb a tree he was incapable of coming down. Jacob, who had been observing him like a second baby sitter, granted Sunwoo luck that day and saved him before falling off the bended branch. 

Though, as he entered his teens, Jacob realized Sunwoo was rather a problem solver. So, as he watched from above, the secret pathways and hideouts, how he fired off a firework in the high school hallways and ran from the teacher, Jacob learned to not intervene. 

Jacob feels the cold water melt on his skin as morning snow starts falling. And between the white feathers falling from above, he sees the entré from where the fabrication spreads outwards to the exterior of his vision. The glass windows stand in height with the opening, making the trees in winter sleep all smaller. The glass doors and buildings in altering heights don't seem to intimidate him as much as last month. Therefore he lets the transparent frame to the other side, open up for him and the flakes on his hair start to melt. 

He vividly recalls summers from before as he walks down the corridors in pastel colors. How the daylight pierce through the ceiling height windows and spread itself over the cream walls like paint. As the memory recalls itself, all the way to the present, he finds himself before lecture hall A, a single turn before the library. The door stands open before him, from his spot on the stream line wood, he sees a row of students already inside. As he hears another pair of footsteps behind him, fused with muted conversations from the entrance, Jacob gathers the strap of his backpack and walks in.

In the lecture hall, the board stands to the left and before it spreads a massive sort of staircase to the highest windows. Though, as he has visited this place in what can only be described as dreams, this vision doesn’t seem to bother his conception. Instead, Jacob stands at the end, two meters away from where the first row starts. Faces that have passed him by in dreams and strangers he can’t recall are all scattered throughout the staircase. And as he eyes them down from the lowest point to the highest before the window, he can’t piece the face in his mind with anyone in the room. 

Jacob let his hand fall from the backpack strap and walk up the right side. Sunwoo has never been known for his punctual habits, neither in Jacob’s memory from his youth or the recent observation of him as a uni student. 

In the perfect middle of the seven rows, Jacob takes a seat close to the stairs down. He lets his backpack fall to the floor as he takes a seat. The silver computer reveals itself from the canvas material and he lays it gently on the surface before him. 

Conversations fill the lecture hall and he eyes the rows, down to the end floor. How two girls sit side by side, enthusiastically nodding when the other talks, or the lone boy furthest against the wall in the right corner. Though, the surroundings fall irrelevant as he anticipates each silhouette entering the door. Each person creates an even stronger blur of conversations and the colors and materials paint a motif before him. Each row and the surface before it becomes foiled with texture and at last, when the professor stands before the white board, none of the faces entering was him from his memories. 

The empty corridor walls, enchanted in pastel shades and wooden floor. Each step he takes spreads to the furthest corners of where two walls meet, before they resile back towards him. All that while he turns further from the past lecture hall. Instead of right, the direction towards the library, he let the patterns on the floor take him whatever they wanted. Hoping it would lead him to the purpose of his visit. And as he thinks about that, he looks up from the wild patterns. As he stands still in the middle of the corridor, he sees a single silhouette at the end. At the end frame where the opening reveals a horizontal corridor, stands a silhouette reminiscent of his youth. His distinctive features are turned the other way, and Jacob stands on his toes as if to reach them. 

With gentle steps, as if to not disturb the rare life, Jacob walks towards him. The wings under his blue blazer attempt to spread in anticipation, but he forces them down under the thick fabric. Has the past finally runned up to him as he has searched the campus for the past month? he wonders. 

“Are you Kim Sunwoo?” Jacob finally asks when they stand about a meter away from each other. The boy turned his figure towards him and his features in day highlights and winter shadows graze itself before him. His face, though more mature, shows traces of the ones from his memories. How the certain parts of his eyes and full lips seem to be unaffected by time. 

“What I-” He before him stops himself from speaking as a door from the other corridor opens. 

Jacob watches how his eyes instantly grow wider and he moves all closer to the extended frame of the pastel wall. To trace the line up to the door, Jacob observes closely how an ocean wave of students crash through the single opening. And as the wave falls and spreads out from all directions, and five people walking alone, unaffected by another, he hears how the boy before him exhales gently. 

By the five last people, two take a left turn, one has a book bag hanging off her shoulder and she carries a computer in her left arm. The sight is rather ordinary, maybe that the winter sunlight hits her a certain way as she passes them  by from afar. But as he turns to look at Sunwoo again, he leans his head against the open frame, hands around the edges. His quiet expression melts the winter frost over the windows and a single point in his eyes that are crystal clear. Jacob was uncertain when still observing him from above, but Sunwoo’s painful adoration for the woman walking before them paints messages on the wall with red paint. 

She is the one he needs to save him from. 

The light hits her in another angle, when she turns her head, Jacob takes his arms closer to his chest as Sunwoo forces himself up from the wall and takes his hand up to his hair. The black lock tangles itself between his fingers as he pushes them back and a pen from his front pocket falls to the floor when his other hand comes down to correct the shirt. 

Jacob, quite amused, looking at the scene before him, recognizes how despite the loud noise from the pen, she at the opposite side doesn’t confirm his presence. Sunwoo’s eyes, covered in yearning, follows her serene figure until it disappears from his sight. Exchanges of words from the student mass further to the right echoes throughout the walls. And Sunwoo breathes out again, though, this time it’s heavy and low, leaving his lips in ache before falling to the floor. 

Jacob stands unchanged as Sunwoo starts to adjust the band of his bag. Suddenly he has become invincible in the pastel hallway. As he thinks of it, Jacob awkwardly takes his own backpack strap and falls back and forth on his heels. 

Finally, he coughs. 

Sunwoo looks up from his book bag. His features dull, tired eyes and his lips barely open to answer him. A rather familiar picture of him as he thinks of the past month’s visions while at home, to place his face in between all the hallways.  

“Are you Kim Sunwoo?” Jacob asks again. 

“Yeah…” He eyes him suspiciously, “Am I supposed to know you or something?” 

“No.” Jacob smiles. 

It falls silent again. 

The plan from the past months runs Jacob’s mind and disappears from sight. So as he stands and watches the boy before him, he starts counting his fingers from below, as if that will help him. 

“Okay.” Sunwoo puts his hands in his pocket.

“Oh right!” Jacob finally says, “Sorry, it’s been some time. I…”

Sunwoo tilts his head. 

“No, I-forget that.” Jacob motions with his hand, “We’re in the same course, I’m a bit after, I would need some help for the assignment…” He motions even more, “someone said you’re good.” 

“Who’s someone?” He asks with slightly squinted eyes. 

Jacob smiles, “Eric, I was with him last month.” 

“You shouldn’t trust Eric.” Sunwoo shakes his head and Jacob furrows his eyebrows, “He nearly burned down the lab last year.” 

That, I missed, Jacob thinks as he pursues his lips in. But if the heart has stayed the same all these years, a constant absolute when everything passes, a simple sentence should secure him. 

“Then, are you saying you aren’t smart?” Jacob eyes him. 

Sunwoo straightens his posture, scoffs and smiles at him on the opposite side, “No, I’m so smart.” He boasts. 

“Okay, then are you helping me?” 

“I usually don’t give out charity, but sure,” Sunwoo nods and reaches out his hand. Jacob sees the distance close as he takes his own hand out and bridges them together. They shake it slightly. 

“Thanks then, Sunwoo!” Jacob puts his hands in his pockets too, “Do three today at the library work?” 

“Sure.” He nods.

How the days move fast, Jacob realizes as he stands by one of the five windows out to the white covered landscape. On one hand, the few daylight hours must change one's perspective on the passing time, but there is something very human, he has understood about the constant disapproval of how time moves in contrast to space. 

His legs and lower back rests against a heater with missing spots where white paint should be. The rough edges of its pattern delve a shallow cut at the right side of his spine. Though, the discomfort doesn’t force him to move, as the chilling hour in the lecture hall has frozen every part of his body. 

As Jacob stands there, melts the ice and watches how the snow falls towards Eden, he thinks about Sunwoo, again. It has been some time he feels, since the boy has been occupying his mind this frequently. Despite only meeting twice or so per day, he has started to ask Sunwoo if he needs rest or is tired. At those times, he rather looks confusingly at Jacob and answers sarcastically, “I’m always tired” or “Rest never works”. Somehow Jacob wants to tell him he should sleep since he’s been running all day, but he realizes on the way out of the entrance that it is only in his mind he has been running. It is something else outside their shared daily routine. 

On the other hand, the name of the girl from that day has been given. Y/n, a student Sunwoo has had classes with, works at a cafe in the mall. The cafe has changed names about four times. Scored lovely on exams the past year, but as if a wind came with a new heart, her eyes seem to, and quoting Sunwoo, “longing for somewhere else”.  A wanderer rather, he thinks, to be seen in spaces without clear intention without a single word said. The red veil connecting the two seems rather obscured at the moment. 

As he thinks about the mysterious girl, his other half and the mission, he sees people coming from the right. At the end of a group, standing Sunwoo, he waves to the three people beside him before walking forward, leaving them behind. The library stands right before Jacob, at the other side of the wall. And as he takes a single step away from the warmth of the electric heater to reach him, Sunwoo smiles. 

“Oh, hello, Jacob.” He continues to walk. Sunwoo’s figure passes him by while the Angel’s have a fixed position in the center of two lines. Jacob’s eyes follow his silhouette down the hall towards the frame. 

“Where are you going?” The textbooks nearly slips out of his arms as Jacob hurriedly shifts directions and accidentally stops two students on their way out. His other half doesn’t seem to catch him the first time as the double doors out to the snow covered scenery opens and barely closes before Jacob’s shoes make a pattern in it. 

“Where are you going?” He thinks it is probably the loudest he has ever talked and stresses each syllable. 

“The cafeteria” He says without any sort of worries. 

“But aren’t we supposed to study?” Jacob runs desperately after him. 

“We were?” The boy stops suddenly and Jacob flies head first against Sunwoo’s back head. The Angel caresses his forehead and Sunwoo turns around to watch him fully. The fact that he got a full skull into his own doesn’t seem to bother him as he quietly waits for the pain to ease off Jacob. 

“Yeah, I asked you yesterday and you said yes.” Jacob holds his cold palm against his forehead. Sunwoo’s eyes adverts from Jacob’s, up to the clear sky. It shines on his features brightly when he tilts his chin. 

“Can’t remember, either way I need to see Y/n.” 

The shoe patterns in the snow continue from where it ended. Jacob sighs as he pulls the backpack further up his shoulder, so that it brushes against his neck. As if half running to connect and grip onto Sunwoo’s college shirt, Jacob comes up to Sunwoo, steps become slower and falls into a sort of comfortable rhythm. The Angel looks down the stone pathway in clear ice, beside it molten snow. Their steps follow in rhythm. 

“Isn’t it very…” 

Sunwoo looks to his left, where Jacob follows his steps down the ice. Eyes set on the road before them and his posture starts to fall into a sort of shrimp-like fashion. The sentence in his mouth never finishes as Jacob starts to fall behind. 

“Very?” Sunwoo quotes and slows down just a little. 

“You know…” Jacob looks up again, sees his other half about a meter before him. Wide eyes and nods his head. The Angel starts shifting his hands around to express the thoughts running in his mind, but it doesn’t seem to do much for him, as Sunwoo tilts his head. The next step down the pathway, his sneaker loses grip on the ground and slides freely. Jacob lets out a surprised sound as fear paints his previously frustrated expression. Jacob grabs onto Sunwoo’s forearm, nearly forgets that his wings might have just ripped through the fabric layers. 

“Looking like Bambi.” Sunwoo says and takes Jacob’s upper arm. 

“What’s Bambi?” Jacob’s filters and deliberate calculations seem to have flown out the window the moment his face came close to the ground. When the very center of his vision finally leaves the ice covered path, he lifts his chin up to see Sunwoo eye him with a frown. 

“That little deer that can’t walk or something.” Sunwoo says. 

Jacob’s quiet for a moment. A bicycle comes beside them, catches their jackets in the artificial wind and takes Sunwoo’s fringe with it, leaving a part of his forehead for the world to see. 

“You say I’m a deer?” 

“I’m going to eat.” He deadpans and turns to face the street once again. 

“Wait!” 

-

The reflection in the glass door looks back at them. Disappears as Sunwoo pushes the door open to reveal the lines of tables. Jacob stands still for a single second, watches the overbearing ceiling weight down on the red tables and the floor shining from the lamps. To stand in the very line between outside and the room, he feels a wind pass by the chairs and he realizes it looks rather depressing. Though Sunwoo's footsteps continue through the tables, sneakers scrape against the odd floor which turns the older woman behind the glass to his place. 

Jacob himself takes uncertain steps around the cafeteria. Follow the odd patterns and watch each ugly lamp light up another red table. He lets his eyes follow the trails of seats further from the main windows and sees students scattered about two tables away from each other before the windows out to a snow covered grass field. 

At the center of one of the windows, just enough to the left that there are still about three places left to sit at the back, sits a girl. The light from outside filters through the window familiarly and hits her features in the exact manner as from before. Jacob thinks Y/n must have a favorite sort of place to sit. In the passing hours between lectures he sees her in the same lightning and in the same position each time. 

As he has wondered for another passage of around the clock. Jacob, unaware of the presence he has been having around him coming back. A light push on his shoulder, just above the wings takes Jacob back to the present. To cover the spot over the blazer where he just touched, Jacob, with wide eyes, watches Sunwoo with a single tray in his hand. The Angel stares at length even when Sunwoo walks two tables away and takes a seat. His shoulder brushes up against the counter, and his eyes immediately falter. Lies heavily on Y/n as Sunwoo’s arms support his chin. 

The tense posture and fixed position of Jacob’s hands loosens. Gently takes himself closer to the table and sits at the opposite side of Sunwoo. The chair is hard plastic, causing a slight discomfort in his skin, as so, Jacob doesn’t bring his back to the rest. 

“You want some?” 

The Angel looks up from his lap. Sunwoo holds out a plastic cup filled with chocolate filling. The inside has a sharp surface and a clean line between transparency and chocolate. A depressing pudding for the depressing interior. And apparently the expression on his face as he thought of it, didn’t pass by Sunwoo, 

“I’m broke". It’s the only thing in this place that doesn’t cost me four thousand and a kidney.” “Plus, it’s actually good.” Sunwoo opens his eyes wide at the last sentence, nods his head as if to make Jacob agree by mimicking. 

Jacob moves his head, “Thank you, but I don’t like chocolate.” 

Sunwoo drops his hand with the pudding to the table surface, “Liar, everyone likes chocolate.” 

The Angel shakes his head gently, “Not me.” 

The one facing the window sighs, forces his hand back to his side of the table and instead, takes up the other container on the tray, “You’re weird, here’s your vanilla.” Sunwoo pushes the plastic cup over the distance and it slows down perfectly in front of Jacob. He looks at the cream white color before him and then up at Sunwoo who has opened his pudding. 

“Did you not want it?” Jacob tilts his head. 

Sunwoo shakes his head with the plastic spoon in his mouth, “Chocolate’s better. I thought that was a pre chosen feature before birth.” He takes the spoon and picks up another bite, “But apparently not.” Sunwoo smiles. 

Even when the conversation finds its final period in the end of a last sentence, Jacob finds himself staring and holding the thin cup between his fingers. And sometimes, when he tears his eyes off the plastic to look at Sunwoo, he sees the one on the opposite side gaze in deep adoration onto a point he can’t see from this side. Though, between the limited hours they’ve spent during this time, he figures it is not much in this scene of life that has his eyes so enchanted. 

Finally Jacob takes off the lid and takes the thin white spoon off the tray to tear the perfect surface of the pudding. As he takes his first bite, he tastes the sweet flavor from the vanilla melt in his mouth. Jacob, on his limited days on land, has never built any deeper interest for pudding he acknowledges. But every time he looks towards Sunwoo who takes a bite off his chocolate one, he gets a sudden desire to eat pudding tomorrow too. A sort of feeling he can’t quite figure out where it comes from or places in his heart. 

Jacob fascinatingly observes how, for each round sound of the clock, Sunwoo falls deeper into his palm. As if spellbound by the person, he looks as if to be in complete dissociation from the real world. Jacob wonders what he sees before his eyes as he watches Y/n, feels in his heart and senses between his veins. 

“Sunwoo?” Jacob says suddenly. It breaks the silence between them and the cafeteria for that part too. The one in deep infatuation looks away for a single second, though, still chin in palm, a position ready to turn back to at any time. 

“Why do you like Y/n?” Jacob tilts his head. 

Sunwoo frowns for a moment and then lifts his shoulder, “I don’t know, why wouldn’t I?” 

“You tell me.” Jacob leans in closer. 

Sunwoo scoffs, “She’s pretty. She’s smart, I don’t know…” His eyes shimmer from the daytime and his other hand comes up to his face. The end sleeves of his hoodie folds from the position and it covers some of his features. The words from his lips become muted in between all the fabric, “...She’s like from another world.” He sighs, “She’s beautiful like a dream and intriguing.” 

“Intriguing?” Jacob tilts his head again. 

“She talks really fast with a really flat tone. Then her body language, it’s as if she has none. That’s her body language.” 

Jacob nods. 

“Why do you wonder?” Sunwoo asks suddenly. 

Jacob’s quiet for a second, looks behind his shoulder towards Y/n before turning back to the table, “I don’t know, she seems a bit disinterested just.” He speaks gently. 

Sunwoo nods his head without making eye contact. 

“I think many would have gone for someone else.” He speaks slower than in previous conversations. Watch each motion of Sunwoo’s fingers and where his pupils are directed. Touch the surface just slightly and see how the waves starts to form. 

“I guess.” Sunwoo scratches his nails and looks towards the ceiling. 

“I-” 

“I have to meet up at five.” Sunwoo sits up, smiles with pressed lips towards Jacob and nods his head once again, “See you tomorrow, I guess.” He pushes his chair under the table and takes a first step out the odd patterned floor. 

“Wait, I should pay you back for the food.” Jacob stresses and starts searching in between his pockets. But the Angel stops once Sunwoo laughs just lightly and puts his hands in his pockets. 

“Don’t worry about it, it was like three thousand.” He turns his head fully and Jacob is left seeing his silhouette become all smaller and disappear out the glass door. 

Despite the definite numbers of daylight there is in a December afternoon, Jacob finds himself at the avenue down the meters between university and his home. The lights hang above his head in lines until the very end of the buildings. And as Jacob lifts his chin even further up, his nose touches the cold air and in every window shines a candlestick. The thousands of lights enchanting the avenue shines in golden yellow. A warm vision as Jacob pulls the scarf a bit tighter around his neck. 

As he watches a couple come out of the glass door before the mall, Jacob thinks back on his conversation with Sunwoo. The Angel turns on every angle possible of the words he spoke to him. To imagine the different dimensions where the timidly spoken sentence could have affected him. Sunwoo was very quick that time, to stand up and leave the conversation. Jacob gets a discomfort in his spine as the scene plays over, but then it continues playing, showing the open motions and tone before he turns. Jacob shakes his head again, to make the screen fade from his mind and look at the white floor. 

It’s confusing, he thinks. Humans are confusing. 

“Hello.” 

Jacob takes the wrong step with his right feet. Shoe, trapped under an elevated part of the pathway and his hands comes out of his pockets as his weight leans forward. Before Jacob’s face comes even closer to the ground, his other leg lands to support the parts of his body that come to lean over. With a few foolish motions as to regain his balance and another second to get his posture upright instead of horizontal, Jacob looks behind him to see the voice that continues to linger in his ears. 

How the Angel’s wings tenses underneath all the fabrics and the features on his face become rigid and pale. The substantial shift in his current state, from outside it may look like a sudden winter storm passed him by. To steal every little warmth left between the layers. But truly, there is only one reason. As Y/n stands before him, a certain distance but in eye contact for the first time. 

“What’s your name?” She abruptly asks when he has stared for too long. 

Jacob grabs his backpack, “What-Why?” 

“I’ve seen you a lot lately.” She’s quick. 

“I’ve seen you a lot too.” Jacob starts to take steps away from her, but as he turns back, her silhouette follows him. 

Shoes in deep snow during winter evenings come from behind and wrap around his ears. 90s Chirstams melodies play weakly from the stores and he finally breaks silence, “Do you need help or something?” 

“I do.” 

“Okay, but I’m not good at math, just so you know.” 

“Don’t worry, it’s not math.” Y/n smiles lightly, though it sends shivers much deeper than any weather has ever done. Jacob swallows and looks before him. The avenue splits into two and he sets his eyes on the pathway into the badly lit park. 

“I’m Y/n.” She stops walking suddenly but continues to look at him, “Will you help me if I ask you?” 

“Jacob.” He answers weakly and shifts his sight between two opposite points. Y/n opens her mouth to speak, but Jacob rushes, making no space for more than one sentence. 

“I’m late for the bus.” And crosses the red light as another car passes. Head to look in the two different directions and the blinding lights coming all closer. Though, he does make it to the other side. Where lamps stand in row between the tall trees and the Christmas lights from the avenue can’t reach. Jacob looks behind him for a last time, to see a painted figure against the avenue, but at the entrance of the park, there is no one. As so, the wings on his back falls to his skin once again. 

How the evening from before haunts him as he passes each corner and wall. There seems to be no logical reasoning, he thinks, as to why a girl he has never met or established any similarities to in the real world, to seek his company. Jacob stands, once again before the library in endless waiting for Sunwoo, but as all other days, he is nowhere to be seen. The Angel sighs, looks to the window and uncomfortably shifts his back. There has been a sort of constant ruler watching his every move, the one hidden among humans thinks. 

“Hello.” 

Jacob moves one step further down the pastel wall as another presence stands beside him. With his hands close to his chest, Jacob looks to see the person before him. With wide eyes and feet tightly set against each other, he forces himself to become smaller when she who he has wandered over stands in complete view. Her face is familiar by now, but the incredibly monotone voice that echoes throughout the halls felt as if picking on the past memories of her. 

“Hello?” Jacob stutters as silence passes them by. Her eyes, like the echo of her first words, lingers like the snow outside and with difficulty, won’t go away.  The blazer around his upper body sits as it always does, but somehow he feels like it has torn by its sides and reveals  his secret fully before her. As her eyes follow his silhouette, his hands cramp together even tighter. 

“Has someone ever told you you sound like an angel, Jacob?” Her voice, not as severe as before, reaches him through the awkward distance. The expression on her face is rather vague, not so drastic lines of emotions, instead nearly detached from the scene they find themselves in. Aside from her faintly north crescent lips and her eyes with the finest of pearl at the pupil. Sharp crystals like the ice hanging from outside the building. 

“No-Why?” Jacob coughs slightly and throws back the question. 

She changes the weight on her legs, “I don’t know, isn’t there a rumor that there’s angels walking among us.” 

“Well,” he takes the collar of his blazer and adjusts it, “It’s just a saying .”  

“You think so?” 

It becomes quiet once again, aside from the friend group that cross the wooden floor and follow the lines down the second corridor. As their conversation fades from these walls and lives on their own, Y/n takes a step closer towards him. In the everlasting coldness enchanting all corners of the building, he suddenly feels her warm shoulder closing in against his own. 

“You don’t believe in angels?” 

“No.” He answers hesitantly, only letting his eyes wander to the left for a single second before moving back to the window on the other side. He sees the eyes of students observing them as they stand in the center of two ways. 

“Just fate.” He pats his blazer again. Y/n eyes him in  silence to observe the invincible dust layered over the fabric, his hands brush it off. Falls down from the fabric to the hem line and adjusts it, despite no failed folds. 

“Nice blazer by the way.” She abruptly stops him. 

He looks at her without words. Now she’s leaning on the wall with crossed arms, eyes aimed at the two people who briefly cover sunlight on the pastel wall before passing it by. This time the two lock eyes completely, a shiver runs through his body as she observes him with an intensive sort of coat over the lobe. To pass through the very fiber that makes them two similar, she sees his soul wrapped in plastic. Burn it with her eyes until it starts to smoke. 

“You’re indiscreet Jacob, I know you’re not from here.” 

A single sentence seems to set off the second visor on the analog clock. Jacob breathes heavily and turns his head away from her. The reaction burns a part of her consciousness and the blood between her vessels moves all quicker as she opens her lips again. Another person passes them by precisely, and Jacob takes her wrist as the very opening of her sentence echo through the pastel passage. 

“Be quiet, please.” He whispers. Y/n is forced up against him, his eyes shining of heaven as he looks down at her. 

“Never.” The shift in dynamic doesn't seem to face her, he thinks. 

Jacob sighs loudly and lets go of her wrists. He throws it against her thigh before turning the other direction, each step, a dimension away from Y/n. But as he comes further down the corridor, where the pastel starts to become sun faded and spots of paint have withered away, a constant sound of steps in a rhythm just like his own. Jacob’s eyes follow the lines between the floors. Force each sound of his shoes against it to become all louder as they come to the very end of the corridor, where it splits in half. 

Her fingers grip onto the back collar, where the fabric folds into two. She forces it closer towards herself and Jacob feels the neckline move further up his skin and strangle the end of his throat. All at once, she pushes him to the right. Jacob lands with his back against the wall, the very fragment of the thin material seems to shrivel at this motion, and the wall, as it’s completely hollow, echoes throughout the empty hallway. 

Jacob lets out a cry as the fabrication and his own body press the wings under the blazer. Y/n comes up closer, with a distance enough for herself, but has her arms up against his head to constrain him to the small square beneath him. 

“Hurt your wings, Angel?” She tilts her head. 

Jacob’s right arm is wrapped around his upper body, to caress the aching spot on his back. The loose strands of his fringe have fallen before his eyes and the collar of his blazer is unfolded. He feels the dry bits of paint on the wall against his head as he leans away from her complexion, as much as this dimension allows him to. 

“You look like a mess.” Y/n tilts her head, “Like a sin.” 

“What do you want anyway?” Jacob says frustrated. 

“You’re not fallen, Angel. Tell me how to do it.” 

“Do what?” 

“Fall from this place.” She rolls her eyes, “Leave.” 

“You’re insane.” He takes a step to the left, but Y/n mirror it perfectly. So, her hands are beside him from both directions, still, to cage him in. 

“Why are you even here? With Sunwoo? Loverboy can’t do uni on his own?” 

For the first time, the features on her face shifts. From being forever still without any sort of indication of time or emotion, her eyes are coated with a thin layer of light, lucent from the moon and the corner of her lip twitches between the sentences. The fine pupil of her eye shifts focus on the different shadows of his face, when neither of them gives her any answers, she desperately starts asking him again. 

Jacob feels the human heart in his chest hurt severely. It pushes against his skin and the organs right besides it. Between each breath, the words lie on his tongue daring to be heard, but as she stares at him, just a little bit more frenetic than before, they fall back in his throat, tangle in each other and strangle him. The eyes sharp and vivid like yesterday’s nightmare, he closes his eyes and wishes for the sun to rise up. And at the exact moment, the two of them hear footsteps coming all closer to their spot behind the wall. 

As suddenly as Y/n appeared beside him before the library, she is now gone, with just a few steps and a temporary current from her disappearing arms. Jacob dares to open his eyes and see nothing but the yellow pale wall. To look behind the paper divider, he sees Y/n’s silhouette become all the smaller as the hallway continues forward and a student, much older, opens the door to the left. 

Once again, he falls against the dried off paint. But this time let his arms hang loosely by his sides, lend his head as far up as it goes, to stare at the high ceiling and breathe out loudly. 

The days seem to obscure each other. How the distinctive line between day & night blemishes at its edges, and creates a wavering pattern of his life. Jacob sits in the library. Though, this time, he looks out over the high shelves and people’s heads from the second floor. To follow the figures from above as they navigate the shelves of titles and to look out the top part of the windows to see the snow covered cityscape. How this place seems unaffected by time, he thinks as his chin lies in his palm. 

The door from below opens again, and his eyes diverge quickly from the window down to the first floor. He sees the hair color at the top of the stranger’s head, it shines in a different shade than the one he seeks for. Therefore, Jacob feels his shoulder fall into a comfortable position once again and his eyes aspire for the white landscape through transparent shine. 

After another passing of the clock, a sensation, in heavier violence than the night weather, has taken a place on both of his shoulders. It weighs heavy over his chest, for a single second he forgets how to breathe. Without any intentions, his hands grab the textbook at the center of the table. Slowly, in contrast to the thoughts racing through his head, Jacob takes just a momentarily stop to them, as to figure out what to say. Though, words never come out when the eyes behind him meet his own. Instead, a laugh chimes throughout their part of the library. Sweet and bright, boyish as from a memory from a past life. 

Sunwoo stands behind him, letting his hand hit Jacob’s back gently as the ends of his eyes curl to a crescent. 

“Is the devil behind me or something?” He continues to laugh before walking to the opposite side of the table. Jacob still won’t answer, his eyes instead follows Sunwoo’s silhouette around the edge of the wood. As he stands up, he suddenly covers the massive window, but the sunlight shines back on him when Sunwoo sits down before him. 

“I have something.” The one on the opposite side is quieter than before. Jacob curiously tilts his head as Sunwoo reaches down to the floor. His backpack lies beside the chair, and as his shoulders disappear behind the table, Jacob hears slight sounds of paper scratching against each other. 

“Are you eating again?” Jacob asks bewildered. 

Sunwoo takes his finger up and pushes it before his lips, “Do you want some or not?” 

Jacob’s face falls flat once again. Eyes on Sunwoo’s as his own expression lights up all of a sudden. 

“Exactly.” He whispers. 

The paper folds a few more times and Jacob looks behind him to see if anyone else sees them. Sunwoo’s hand comes up from the white paper bag, in his palm, gently cupped lies a golden brown pastry, the layers flakey and falls off in his hand. Jacob turns back towards Sunwoo and reaches his hands out for the layered pastry. He brings it up to his face, beneath his nose as to smell it. Sunwoo reaches down again and smiles when Jacob’s eyes are wide and searches for the specific flavor wrapped in golden dough. 

“It’s vanilla.” He whispers and Jacob looks at him, “I’ll take the chocolate one.” 

His words gently wrap around his heart and sets off a sensation he has never experienced before. It’s warm like the memory of coming inside and closing the door after being outside. And when he looks at Sunwoo who takes an outlandish bite of his own pastry, Jacob feels the urge to take out his wings and gently cover the kid’s shoulder like it's a blanket. To fend off the nightmares of the world, events that make one soul a bit smaller, all of it would not come to him if Jacob stood like in imagination, protecting him fully. 

They sit in silence for some time. Let each book page that lifts from one side to the other blow around their ears. Jacob savors the last bit of his pastry and looks out the window again. Snow falls outside and lies like a grainy filter over the city horizon. As he falls deeper in trance of the portal to the outside, and counts each flake falling from above, Sunwoo suddenly taps his finger on the side of the computer. 

Jacob looks at the kid with wide eyes. His head slightly forward and posture completely still, as  if he does stand outside in the pouring snow. 

“Our holidays are soon.” Sunwoo too leans forward, “Eric-” 

He points at Jacob, “You know Eric?” 

The other one nods attentively. 

“Okay, good." “He’s holding a party this weekend, let’s go.”

Jacob leans back again, letting his back fall to the rest of the chair and he looks at Sunwoo with a rather uncertain expression.  

“I don’t know.” 

“Why?” He sees Sunwoo’s eyes squint with a momentary head tilt. 

“I’m not good at parties.” His shoulders are stiff and features rigid and square. 

Sunwoo too falls back in his chair, to mimic Jacob’s expression before smiling again “Saying it like it’s hockey or something, you just have to be there.”

Jacob’s still looking at him without words or smiling. 

“Either way, Party Pooper, I’m going to get Y/n to the party.” He suddenly grabs the black ink pen from the right side of the desk. Brings it close to the Angel’s face and motions it in the same pause between his words. 

The silly little witch movements makes Jacob quite amused, but nonetheless, the words leaving his mouth and the determination behind his eyes. It all shines like the metal frame, outlining each square of the high ceiling window. 

The Angel lifts himself off the back rest once again, reaches his hand up to the metal tip at the end of the plastic pen. As so, he forces it down to the wooden surface and Sunwoo still looks at him. 

“What if she doesn’t want to go?” 

“I’ll have to deal with that later.” He lifts his shoulders. 

“But isn’t that a waste of time?” Jacob continues. 

“Not in my opinion.” 

“But what if-” 

“Do you have something against her or what?” Sunwoo cuts him off abruptly. The one from the opposite side notices how his eyes diverge from his own and flees everytime Jacob chases after them. Sunwoo’s own question is rather loud when he crosses his arms and eyes sharp directed towards the Angel. Jacob feels his own hands grasp each other in his lap and his eyes awkwardly look down the first floor as to see if anyone heard. 

“Not against her so.” Jacob shifts his arms around before his chest. 

“I just don’t think…” He struggles as their eyes lock once more and in the furthest corner of his vision, he sees Sunwoo’s fingers impatiently bend the plastic of the ink pen. 

“...That she’s good for you.” 

Sunwoo furrows his eyebrows, "Why?" Like you know her? She doesn’t talk to anyone.”

“I do know.” He looks at the other one sternly, “I do know, Sunwoo.” 

He rolls his eyes, “Who have you talked to? Danny from architecture that has seen her once like everyone else? Stop falling for peer pressure, Jacob.” 

“No.”  Jacob buries his face in his hands. The sigh echoes throughout the square area they are in. He stands up. The chair grinds against the wooden floor and spreads from their table. Students from the same floor behind the bookshelves eye the two. 

“Chill, dude.” Sunwoo puts his hands up. 

“No.” Jacob grabs Sunwoo’s right wrist and forces him up, his chair too leaves a mark on the parquet. 

Sunwoo sees the eyes of their peers as each step Jacob takes echoes throughout the shelves and climbs up to the floor ceiling. The right side of the double door flies open as they walk out. At the center of the horizontal hall, the one in disguise looks left and right as the one connected by the wrist stares at the other in bewilderment. At last, at the end of the hallway on its left plane, sits a door in the same color as the wall. A rather beaten up one with a slim frame and no rectangular plate to inform its name. 

Before Sunwoo realizes what he’s staring at, Jacob forces his hand closer to him and starts walking towards the door. And at just one meter away from it, as Jacob reaches out to the door handle. 

“You’re gonna take me hostage now or what?” Sunwoo asks. 

Jacob doesn’t answer, instead, the door behind the two of them shuts close. The corridor they stand in falls silent once again and neither of them can make out the lines of silhouettes or practical equipment in the still darkness. 

“This is a secret.” Jacob speaks to him as his eyes have started to adjust, “I’m here to protect you, Sunwoo.” He says clearly. 

“Okay?” Sunwoo says skeptically. 

Jacob sighs deeply before he angles his arms to get the blue fabric off his back. Now, Sunwoo’s eyes have also started to become familiar with the shadows. And before him, near the corner of the room where the shelves are, he sees Jacob struggling to get the blazer off and his arm meet the one shelf, creating a contained sound in the room. 

“Don’t take off your clothes, dude.” Sunwoo eyes him in disgust. 

“I’m not getting naked.” Jacob answers frustrated. He refuses to argue further with the one crammed into the far corner. Sunwoo stands beside a rigid old broom, his eyes following its silhouette down to the floor and takes it in his hands. 

As he looks at the one opposite towards him, his figure outlined by the faint light seeping through the cracks in the door. Jacob finally gets that piece of fabric off his arm and the blazer falls to the left off his leg. Suddenly, the light between the door and its frame fades out of view. The liminal space in the midst of the corridor becomes even darker and cramped as a white clean complexion rises above their heads. 

Sunwoo squints as he lets go of the broom. The wooden material hits the wall loudly before it plummets to the floor. 

“Take the wings off man, that’s embarrassing.” 

Jacob feels Sunwoo's shoulder brush against his own, and without hesitation, Jacob turns around before the other reaches the door handle. The fabric of his shirt tangled between Jacob’s own fingers as he drags the boy closer, away from the door. 

“It’s real! I’m your guardian angel!” He whispers-shouts and points at the feathers behind him, “Touch!” 

“No!” Sunwoo holds the same tone. 

“Why are you so stubborn!?” 

“Why do you have wings on!?”

“Because I’m your guardian angel!”

Jacob continues to whisper back at him, Sunwoo stops answering, instead silently stares at him in the dark. The Angel lets out a frustrated sigh and as he does, the wings behind him twitches slightly, opens and closes as much as they can in the liminal space. Sunwoo tilts his head, through with furrowed eyebrows and back against the door. He still bends his knees slightly to see the end feathers of his wings. 

“Here.” Jacob has stopped whispering, his voice, gentle and silken like the first time they met. He turns around, with his back towards Sunwoo, to let him see the practical details, he spreads them slightly. 

“They look pretty good. Where did you buy them?” Sunwoo asks with crossed arms. 

“You can’t buy them, I’m born with them.” 

There’s two holes in the back of his white shirt. Slit vertically down, and the right goes just a bit further down the left. And truly, as Sunwoo leans forward, he tells his eyes not to deceive him when the skin underneath the layers of white feathers connects seamlessly to the back. 

“You truly are a weirdo.” His posture falls straight again, back against the door surface. 

“What does your wings even have to do with Y/n?” 

Jacob reflects the change in the way Sunwoo holds his body, as he lifts his head up to face him. The Angel rolls his eyes, letting the distance between his lips grow wider as to whisper debate part two. But as his vision, faded in shadows from all sides,  comes up to the same level as Sunwoo’s, the eyes of his human, spellbound by genuine intrigue. Sunwoo’s head is tilted just slightly upwards, to watch his features in an angle never discovered before. Turn the motif he has built up of the man before him the past week. 

“Not my wings.” ”But that I'm your angel.” Jacob corrects him. Without any motions, instead let his arms fall vertically down its sides, like before they stepped into the room without brilliance. 

“Sorry, I don’t get it, dude.” He put his hands up again, “You don’t think it’s a good idea to shoot the arrow or are angels psychic all of a sudden?” 

His wings flutter just slightly as Jacob breathes in, “First off, I’m not Cupid. Second, I’m not psychic.” He breathes out, “My mission is to protect you, we’re-you’re in danger, she’s betraying this place, using others for her own need.” The Angel points with his finger towards Sunwoo’s face. Follow the breaths as he speaks. 

Jacob comes closer, laying his right arm over Sunwoo’s shoulder. The soft material of his sweater and the slight warmth that filter through the minimal knits. The Angel’s hand gently on his consciousness, Sunwoo abruptly becomes aware of the four walls, a border tight against them, cold because of lack of either sunlight or electric heat. A part of Jacob becomes rather confused as the one he protects, stubborn and appalled by inferiority, doesn’t move his hand away. Instead let it share its warmth. 

Jacob bites his lip, nearly letting his fingers push against the fabric on his shoulder a bit harder. Something at an unknown place in his mind, draws a deep line within that place. Impending on the new wound, a part of him wonders if the words on the tip of his tongue are worth saying. That he’s slowly, but firmly pulling a part of the fabrication of the very machine he rules and protects. Nonetheless, he looks up again and speaks;

“I need to protect myself too, Sunwoo.” He whispers, “I’m not here on my own will, I need you to know that.” 

How the world has refused to move even one step since they tread into the room. When they come back to the open floor and watch the identical students from before sit in the same position and flip through pages, the two of them wonder if it is the same pages they look at as before. Though, as the chairs from their table stand turned and diagonal, next to the vertical lines of the floor. Jacob watches how Sunwoo takes himself closer to the decorated edge. Like an image from a painting, the Angel sees his back clearly in view, follows each step and takes the place right beside Sunwoo as he leans on the wooden railing. Both of their shoulders fall in place without agitation as they look at the slow motions of the life before them. Sunwoo who fills his lungs fully with air, his body shifts like the transition of winter to spring as he breathes out. In another perspective, Sunwoo himself watches the white landscape grow all whiter as the snow continues to fall. Build on its height and dream of reaching back home. 

“I guess that makes sense.” Sunwoo’s voice is rather low when his chin is cupped between the skin of his palm. 

Jacob tilts his head and looks down at him, “What makes sense?” His voice is gentle. Pure like the true white color of snow. Sunwoo smiles slightly, which only makes the right tilt of Jacob’s head force the end strands to reach his shoulder. 

“That.” Sunwoo looks up at Jacob. To use his shoulders in effortless motions, let the sharpest part guide the Angel’s eyes to an abstract point behind his back. Jacob eyes him without words and takes his hand behind his back, opens it fully and stretches his fingers around the center of the two wings. 

Sunwoo laughs, “That explains why you’re so weird.” 

“Good or bad?” Jacob asks worriedly. 

“Good.” Sunwoo answers without hesitation and Jacob once again is left in a lone corner over the hidden paragraph between a single word. 

“I like weird people.”

The one clothing reveal didn’t become as scrutinizing as he once thought. He watches the top of people’s heads navigate through the thin lines and how their steps cut right through the sun reflection on the parquet flooring. Though, despite the positive outcome of the break of rules, there must be an underlying reason, in his unconsciousness as to why he refuses to look up from the stained floor. 

“Are you immortal or something?” Sunwoo asks abruptly. His voice, low and muted to the outside world, but the clearest thing in a single room as he speaks to him while conscious of the sentient world. His head finally gets to move with the minutes left of daytime. 

“No, I’m not.” He furrow his eyebrows. 

“How old are you then?” He looks back at Jacob. 

The Angel’s quiet for a second, “As old as you? Or what do you mean?” 

“So twenty three?” 

“Probably not twenty three in human twenty three ways, but close enough.” Jacob motions with his hands. 

“In dog years?” 

“No-” Jacob stops himself to look up at the chandelier in a high ceiling, leans closer to Sunwoo and tilts his head, “Dog years, isn’t that the concept of a dog's maturity in human scale?” 

“Yup.” Sunwoo answers in gray, dull tone. 

“Okay, then kind of.” 

“Do you have any memories then?” Sunwoo is now fully leaned on his arm with his entire body shifted towards Jacob’s own essence. 

“I do.” Jacob smiles. 

“What do you remember?” 

“You.” 

“Nothing else?” Sunwoo asks. Jacob looks away from him, the lids stay open as they refuse to close as he looks at the wall of spines. To run through all the pictures captured in time, see the grainy filter over his past and not a single one has without his face. He’s always there, either in perfect font or dream. 

“No.” Jacob shakes his head. 

“Really?” Sunwoo says skeptically, “You didn’t accidentally drop your ice cream before God or something?” 

Jacob shakes his head, “I remember you dropping your ice cream at four, you started crying but your mom and dad were somewhere else, so I just stared at you. That was awkward.”

Sunwoo smiles at how Jacob’s eyes are focused towards a distant point as he describes parts of the life sequence. There is something amidst them, that distance between their two shoulders that have seemed to become shorter for every day, that has started to grow. A single sprout that gently planted itself at the center without either knowledge, and now starts to spread its petals. Time has seemed to strengthen the fabrication of each leaf. 

It is rather funny, Sunwoo thinks, how the flower has bloomed between the frozen cracks of a winter. But only a sprout that has been through wither would be able to force itself up, between those layers. Therefore, Sunwoo finds himself quietly giving into the fabrication between the two of them. When looking at Jacob, he realizes he’s staring at his youth.

“I’ve been here as long as you” Jacob says suddenly, “, and stay here til you do.” 

Sunwoo doesn’t say anything. 

“All you do affects me too.” 

Sunwoo nods his head silently and leans on his palm, “So if I jump out the window you’ll die too?” It was rather satirical, a hypothetical scenario wrapped in unseriousness from Sunwoo’s side, but the human has come to realize angel’s don't always take sarcasm.  

“Yes.” Jacob says with a stern face. Sunwoo laughs silently and Jacob eyes him. Observing his serene motions and dares to walk closer. 

“So don’t do anything bad.” 

“Nice home.” Sunwoo looks around the room before he drops his bag onto a right angled carpet that hides whatever’s before the door. 

“Mine looks like shit.” 

“Yeah, I know.” Jacob nods his head and walks over to his bed. 

“You do?” Sunwoo stands before the closed door and looks at Jacob who lies between sheets and pillows of low saturation in peach shade essence.

“Not seen it now, but when you were little.” He looks at the ceiling, “I just guess you haven’t changed.” 

Sunwoo’s shoes stand in different directions of the black carpet beside Jacob’s that pointed towards the wall. He walks over to the one laying down, inspecting him silently before taking the pillow closest to the edge. 

“You’re dissing me or what?” 

“No-” Jacob doesn’t get to finish his sentence as Sunwoo throws the pillow down the calm state of the Angel’s face. 

“Yeah, Cupid.” 

“I’m not, Cupid.” Jacob sits up and takes the pillow from under his head and aims right at the center between Sunwoo’s eyes. 

And so it continues until the one with a full human heart lies on the floor. His locks scattered over Jacob’s peach muted carpet. He looks a little pathetic from above, Jacob thinks and smiles. As the reflection of the angel above him clears, the outlines become perfect, he sees how Jacob reaches his hand out towards him. 

“You’re so weird, why are you hitting your guardian angel?” Jacob forces him up and they stand in the center of the small square. 

The brief daylight hours has passed this age by too and now, it’s the warm light from Jacob’s ceiling that pierce through the window and spread out over the nearby snow. The room has warmed up from the center where they sit and spread slowly to the outer corners. Jacob sits on the bed, his back against the window frame. In contrast, Sunwoo sits at the very bottom, on the peach colored carpet, but both with posture bend forward over the textbooks and computers like grass over the windy field. 

Sunwoo has fallen in and out of the blank page before him about three times. To look at the window behind Jacob where, it every time, disappoints him, because there is nothing to look at in winter evening. Or go to the toilet.

At some point, when Jacob’s cursor hits the end of the A4 page, he stretches his back and yawns. Sunwoo looks over the horizontal line where the bedsheet gathers in folds, and sees how Jacob’s arms struggle in the blue fabric. The sounds of keys on the computer are now lost from this space and only the light noise of the ventilator lingers between the four walls. As Jacob stops stretching his arms, he takes off his blazer and lets it fall behind him on his orange sheets. The white wings stretch to the two opposite sides of his bed before they fall. 

Sunwoo looks at him while leaning his hands on the carpet behind him, “How do you shower?” 

Jacob answers hesitantly, “Like you normally shower?” 

“Do you wash them with shampoo or something?” 

“No..” 

“Gross.” Sunwoo makes a face. 

“Why? "Should I?” His eyes widen as he caresses the feathers of his left wing. 

“I don’t know.” He suddenly falls down onto the floor, smiles as he closes his eyes, “I’m no angel.” 

“Pretty obvious.” Jacob hums quietly and walks up. 

At some the curve of his posture had fallen so deep that Jacob swore he could hear cracks of bones. And instead to pull strings above his back, Jacob fell backwards on the pillows. The computer on the lower end of his stomach and his chin in an unflattering position to see the lit up screen. Though, he let the words between four frames judge his current state and the sounds of keys filled the four walls. After another passage of time, Jacob’s stomach growls and he registers the lack of sound as he himself stops writing.

“Are you hungry, Sunwoo?” Silence.

As no answers come from the one below him, Jacob reaches himself over the edge. Spread across his carpet lies Sunwoo with his arms tangled and body in a rather complex position. His eyes, closed off from this plane of existence as his mind reaches another. For just a moment, Jacob watches him quietly from the bed above. There is something nostalgic that evokes from this scene. 

Though, he does eventually stand up and take the pillow from the inner corner. It’s just a little cold as it was compressed between himself and the wall, isolating their frame from the winter lined streets. Jacob sits down beside Sunwoo’s chest, he gently lifts the boy’s head, without much sound lets the soft fabric catch his locks and the rest of his head. They sit for a second, completely unchanged, but Jacob sees the skin on Sunwoo’s upper arms create patterns of small dots. That he knows, his human form does that too when the cold itches to take the degrees from him. So, Jacob reaches over to his bed again, takes the blanket at the very end. He stretches it before it falls to the floor and replicates the silhouette of Sunwoo’s body. 

As time passes and the visor on the clock up on the high wall runs in bold progress, Jacob sits in a silence, one he only can experience in this form. Despite the constant noise of the clock, the undying reminder that he does exist, the world somehow moves slower. 

Jacob looks at Sunwoo’s face. Complexions without stress, in dreams he must be somewhere else, where life doesn’t tweak his eyebrows and strangle his skin. As they sit like this, Jacob wonders about his mission. The purpose of his arrival and existence. If he gets to reveal his thoughts, be true to the feelings inside his chest, Jacob can’t see a possible outcome where he forces Sunwoo’s heart in another direction. Despite their agreement, nothing but Y/n seem to cast over him as if  in dreams. 

Jacob reaches out his right hand over Sunwoo’s hair, gently feeling the strands brush past his skin. His mission to protect seems to have widened its edges and to save the boy before him has become more than to prevent blood scattered wounds. But to see him in delight knowing his fortune. As Jacob comforts his other half in the night, he thinks of young love and to, at least, not let the another presence color Sunwoo’s heart. 

Ever since that day, when Jacob, just another student in his class, revealed his life secret and told him there’s someone actively protecting him. He hasn’t been able to describe it perfectly, to set his finger on the singular mark and feel confident in the linear placing. Rather, he lets the skin of his point finger brush past the reflective paper, stop at a spot underneath a highlighted world, until he reverts back to the opposite side of the paper. 

As he walks away from campus, out on the broad streets, two lined at the edges and a center path where all the snow has collected towards the sides, painted brown from cars. Sunwoo feels a strange sort of responsibility for the new perspective of the world. Despite the enlightenment being a revelation  of a ruler watching him silently, he feels an even stronger obligation to become an active part of the otherworldly dynamic. 

A father with his child walks past him, and Sunwoo pushes his hands even deeper into his pockets. His breath paints a vague white cloud in the shade of the snow beneath him. And when a car drives past him, in the back of his mind, he considers walking closer towards the decorated glasses. 

As he looks at the same scenery, but in different seasons, he stops as he comes outside the mall. At the center, beneath the fabrication folding out over the street, he looks at the sign that will soon turn on, and then, the glass doors on row. How people push and pull the doors without a consistent pattern. Each window shop is scattered with snowflake stickers, red ornaments, green bushes and golden lightning. Sunwoo adjusts his hands in his pockets once again as he longingly watches into the world he knows too well. 

To stand there, he realizes how much of his time depends on a single ritual, a single person. What is he supposed to do if not going in, he thinks. Jacob was busy, apparently. Been running around all month trying to convince him to not reach out his hands towards Y/n, seems like life finally catches up to him. Sunwoo smiles as he thinks about Jacob ignoring papers, deadlines and assignments and how his wings twitch in anxiety as he runs to the shelf in the library. . 

“Hi.” 

Sunwoo jumps from one concrete square to the other. By reflexes alone, his hands tangle themselves out of the pockets, and he holds them before his face directed right towards the voice who called him. Though, the frown on his face fades from view as he sees the features between his fingers. On the opposite side of the concrete square, drowned in melted snow, stands the girl he watches everyday from this place, though, instead she stands beside him. 

She looks at him, doesn’t break eye contact for even a second when his hands fall down to its sides. As they stare through the looking glass to the heart of the other, Sunwoo wonders if Y/n has ever looked at him for this long. He figures the longest they’ve held some sort of visual connection outside his dreams, it is the barely second long stare when he drops a pen during lectures and she turns behind to look at what went on. 

Y/n herself forces the part of her face to stay in place. The boy before her stands with eyes large as the reflective ornaments behind them. He refuses to blink and she wonders if she’ll need to walk up to him and move the lids up and down for him. As to not laugh, Y/n reaches down to the ground, and Sunwoo’s eyes follow. A glove and candy wrapper lies on the spot between the two of them, it must have flown out when he shoved his hands out ( like a loser!!?!??!? ) he thinks, does a painful face when she faces the ground instead of him. 

“Here.” Before she reaches up fully, Sunwoo lets his shut eyes and creased skin fall into an unbothered expression.  The hand in front of his mouth, fingers that curled up slightly as if to rip a piece out of his own teeth, shifts behind his back. Now she stands before him fully, even closer than the first time she scared him. Her hand with his glove and wrapper are dreadfully close, in a way where he sees his past selves fall to the floor. He thinks he can sense her perfume from this distance (really it’s the beauty shop five meters away) and he hopes to brush past the skin of her hands when he takes the glove. 

“Thanks” Sunwoo scratches the back of his neck and reaches out carefully for her hand. Though, he doesn’t need to wish as he spreads his palm. A single star enchanted in a miracle must have fallen in daylight as Y/n takes her free hand around his wrist gently, turns it so his palm faces the sky and gives the glove and wrapper. A butterfly that has been slowly waking up in his stomach, for the first time sets itself free when she brushes past his fingers. 

“No worries.” She smiles and Sunwoo says something incoherent which makes Y/n lean in closer. The simple motion makes him nearly drop the glove again and Y/n smiles even harder than the moment before. 

To have never paid much attention to the boy before him, simply just acknowledged his present when the moment called for it, she feels strangely enthralled by having so much affect on him. Though, she decides to conceal that feeling, hiding it away in the cold shadows so as to not make judgment for her. 

“You’re not with Jacob?” She asks curiously. 

Sunwoo who has stood in absolute silence, barely on his knees as they seem to give up every time she takes a step closer towards him. The butterflies grow old in a single second at the mention of the Angel’s name. That conversation from a day before replays in his mind and apprehensive commotion take his heart from behind, like the sudden wind. He straightens his posture. 

“No, he had other things.” Sunwoo falls over his own words and the single pupil can’t seem to find a comfortable spot in the crowded entrance decorated in warm tones. Y/n’s own arm falls to her sides, out of her pockets and her chin forces upwards, to let her features hidden under the scarf out. Each part and motion of her essence seem to open up as Sunwoo forces his body closer against his heart. To rigidly press up his shoulders and force the scarf higher up, as to feel his warm breath on the fabric.

“Are you cold, Sunwoo?” Y/n takes another step towards him, takes her hand without a glove on his red cheek. The sigh at the back of his throat that suffocates behind the material of clothing, he sees the red ornaments in the background, become vivid as her eyes, clear as the lightning in the shop window, looks into his own. A part of him speaks to lean in against her touch, close his eyes and let her brush the past off his skin. While he hears how Jacob’s voice lingers between his two ears. To run away and stay close and protect his unstained heart. 

“You really are.” Sunwoo doesn’t get to react before Y/n takes his arm jacket. To navigate the thin space between padded layers and paper bags, Sunwoo nearly trips over as they come to the final glass door, dividing the two spaces. In the mall, at the black carpets where melted snow has spread over, they stand, Y/n still in grip with his jacket. 

“You should get something warm.” Y/n says and looks up at him as they walk further into the mall. 

“I have no money.” Sunwoo answers distressed as he can feel Jacob’s almighty pressure beat down on him from above. 

“I have, don’t worry.” 

How foolish he does feel as they sprint pass the endless store windows and openings. His sneakers that are not built for melted snow lose grip on the marble floor as they come closer to a cafe in the inner corner of the mall. Sunwoo curses himself silently as he every season refuses to change shoes, better not become a habit if he ever gets rich enough to get a car, he thinks. 

The cafe they walk into has a rather dark complexion, contrasting to the white marble floor of the outside. Y/n is still holding his arm, she leads him further into the warm light and velvet furnitures. Sunwoo simply looks up at her own features as she gently pushes him down the couch in the absolute furthest corner of the cafe. Y/n herself, takes a step back, in which Sunwoo starts incoherently talking and reaching out his arm again.

“I’m getting us something warm, I’ll be back, Sunwoo.” 

His arm, freezed in that space she left it in. He watches her silhouette disappear behind a wall to get to the counter, and when only the low sound of christmas music reaches him. He falls back into the velvet material, smiles so deeply that he has to hide his face in between the material of the scarf. 

His emotions as if being pushed by two opposite parts, he feels like. Sunwoo rests his head against the soft material and feels two identities on each shoulder. Jacob on one, Y/n on the other. Each one takes a stern grip on his shirt and creates tidal waves in his heart. And how hard it pulsates in the very center of his chest. He tries to figure out, as he watches the abstract pattern on the ceiling, is it of fear of complete infatuation? 

He doesn’t get to wonder about that for much too long as he hears footsteps come all closer. Sunwoo forces himself off the back rest, a red pillow lands on the floor, before his feet. But it flashes past him and he forgets it as soon as Y/n stands before him with a black tray. Her beanie and scarf is off and it rather rearranges her hair and shirt. So beautifully natural in a slightly tired stage, how he wants to grab his shirt and kiss her, he thinks. And if it weren’t for Jacob at the other line, he might have stood up and asked her. 

“You’re throwing pillows?” She asks while laughing. Y/n place the tray on the table and reach down. Sunwoo, too, reaches for it  after scratching his neck. They awkwardly meet at the very bottom of the floor, both of them with their own hand on the velvet material. Sunwoo looks in her eyes genuinely as she too has paused before him. As if it’s the only time in his life where stars collide, he observes each of her shadows and highlights in deep adoration, as if to paint that picture when he can’t reach out for her. 

Y/n who gifted her hand to fold him weak in his knees, feels her own heart suddenly chime off like the bells in the far winter distance. Those seconds feel like minutes and she tears her eyes off his own and takes the pillow. 

“You should eat, Sunwoo.” She coughs and motions at the tray. 

He slowly sits up too, looks at the tray. Latte, a pie of sorts and two apples. 

“Okay.” He stutters and tries to take off his scarf. The end tangles itself into his jacket which in turn, secures in a part of the couch. 

Y/n bites her lip as too force down a genuine smile over his fast paced and incautious motions. 

“Here, drink this.” She coughs again as she holds out the white porcelain cup towards him. How the tidal wave turns again and Sunwoo scratches his neck and leans just slightly away from the cup. 

“I don’t think I should-” 

“Why?” Her smile disappears in an instant and he grows even more anxious. 

“I’ve been sleeping badly.” He forces a laugh and takes the cup from her hands, “But I’ll take it either way.”

Time awkwardly passes them as they sit by the table. Sunwoo drinks from the coffee, but hasn’t touched either the pie or the apple. A part of her suspiciously watches the scene in third person perspective. The rigid posture of his shoulder and the constant change in focus point. As if someone else is on his mind. 

“What are you thinking of, Sunwoo?” She asks gently. He looks at him with big eyes and then the window. 

“The coffee." He says enthusiastically and lifts the cup, “I think it’s the best of my life!” He smiles, but he judges her as unconvinced by the look she gives him alone, so he supports his statement, just like in class, “Wow!” 

As no words come out or a change in expression, Sunwoo closes his eyes for a second and mentally throws his body out the window. And when he opens and sees her face once again, he falls back in his seat. 

Another moment of silence passes. 

“You can tell me, Sunwoo.” She smiles and scoots a bit closer towards him, “If you’re comfortable of course, I’m a good listener.” 

The pendulum in his heart swings to the opposite side as he looks at her eyes filled with warm light reflection from above. The worries in his mind, that’s been running all day and night, that tears at his skin and holds him away from dreams. He holds the cup in his hands, because if he even dares to open his mouth, he feels the words come out of him like waterfalls. 

“I’m just a bit confused, I guess.” He admits and looks at the dark wall. 

“Of what?” She asks with a low voice and watches his side profile. 

It is painfully quiet before he speaks, to filter the words he wants to say, “Life, I guess.” He says, “I don’t really know what I want.” 

Y/n, too, becomes rather like the snow falling outside as he sincerely, just lightly, loft the curtain cover over his heart. The music fades as her mind leans closer towards him, the thin line into an undiscovered part of the world. 

“Is it a lot of choices or…is it just blank?” She asks cautiously. 

“Or I do know.” he falls back in his seat, “It’s just, someone said it’s not a good choice for me. But I feel happy when I think about he-it.” 

The sentence leaving his lips comes like an arrow, aimed at the very center of her complex. The fatal end of the arrow forces itself in between her skin and before Y/n can even react, it sits, so dangerously in her heart, hanging by that very metal. How her own structured play melts in that same spot, run down her lips even when that inner part burns to keep it in. 

“I also want something that is bad, apparently.” She speaks and looks down her own lap. 

“Is it a person or…” Sunwoo dares to ask, “or something else?” 

“Something else.” Y/n fiddles with the hem of her sweater.

“Will it hurt you if you do it?” 

Y/n looks up from the tearing string of her shirt. As another snowflake falls to the floor, their eyes connect. She needs to look slightly down, as he lies on his back against the furniture. The lights illuminate him from above and a single shine from the left casts itself over his heart and eyes. The sight before her leaves her breathless somehow, the arrow twists itself a bit harder and somehow she leans in and answers him with a tone of clear night sky. 

“I don’t think so.” She pauses and looks at his brown eyes dipped in sunlight, “Will it hurt you?” 

Sunwoo shakes his head delicately against the fabric, “No, …but someone else might.” 

She frowns, “Might?” 

“I’m not sure, I haven’t ask-” He stops talking mid sentence, sees from the perspective behind the wall how the curtains lift a centimeter higher for every word spoken, “I don’t know.” He repeats. 

Sunwoo’s hand, softly spread out over the couch. The velvet material forces itself out between his fingers and plummets down against the frame when another, just like his, lies over it. Sunwoo looks down at the spot where two essences connect. How the impulses bridge over to the other when they lay skin to skin. He follows her arm, up to her shoulder and her eyes. He gets taken aback just a bit by her expression. She’s awfully quiet and won’t give him that gentle sweet smile she has been giving him since outside. Rather, it’s something earnest in her dull frame. Something that can’t be quite expressed in words, rather he stares at her and tries to figure the feeling in her eyes. There’s a window in her eyes to another world, and he feels an yearning to get to that place. 

“Sunwoo?” She asks him with her hand still on his, “Will you help me?” Y/n stops. 

“Help me get away-” 

Y/n’s hand falls behind her back, when Sunwoo abruptly takes his hand closer to his own presence. To stand up and reach for the high ceiling when everything else melts to the floor.

“Sorry, I have-'' He desperately reaches for his scarf in between the pillows.The oil lamp on a round table shakes as he accidentally hits it walking away from the table. Sunwoo tears his eyes off her figure and down to the floor the moment he sees her expression drenched in midnight rain. Though, the angel on his shoulder points at her wildly, turns on her sides and desperately shouts in his right ear until its voice rings of pain. 

“I’ll pay you back later.” He falls over words and trips over his other foot as he turns on his heel. Y/n opens her mouth, but before even the first syllable escapes her lips, Sunwoo is behind the wall, out of view. The last trace of him is the fading footsteps running out of the small corner, and the dark velvet spot where his hand was.  

  “You forgot your apple.” She nearly whispers as her voice is no longer to use. 

The sun has completely disappeared under the horizon. Not even a moon in a clear dark night, as it snows heavily. Beneath the streetlamps, where the light is at its strongest before spreading in all directions, you’ll see the feather-like fragments plummet down towards the white mass. Though it’s dark without a star course in the sky, the snow is astonishingly white that the warm tone from the lamps reflects from the ground. 

A single trail in the new snow leads up to an apartment complex. Horribly painted spots in rough edges, scattered without a clear pattern and probably pretty badly isolated. Jacob sits at the edge of a window frame. About three meters off the ground. To carefully watch the secret world behind the glass, Jacob turns himself slightly and leans in towards the room. It’s completely dark, not a single light source on. Rather the only thing looking back at him is his own eyes and the faint shape of his wings. 

The snow on the frame melts underneath his fingers, it turns red and itches. Jacob waves the water of his hand as his human body is a burden before starting to unlock the window. He remembers back in time, when Sunwoo had his own little room, one wall away from his parents. It was about two or three times Jacob had to force himself between the thin creak.

He gets the glass door open and widens the gap. The wind from outside prevails and spreads into the room. Brush past the curtains and extend itself onto each surface of the apartment. Jacob himself takes a step onto the carpet beneath the window. His bare foot makes no sound and a slight grind lingers between the four walls as he closes the window. 

Jacob let his eyes observe the home in a panorama like manner. And at the very right of his presence, is a bed in the farthest corner. He leans in, to discern the shadows in the fabric. Nearly completely covered by the sheets, he does catch the top of her head. Y/n sleeps in near silence and Jacob carefully takes a step backwards from the bed, instead closer towards the kitchen area. 

He saw the scenery from today, brushed past him and he shivered as he sat in the library. On the way home he tried to meet up with Sunwoo, but his voice was short and rigid on the other line. Events seem to fall in line for her, but stars can’t die right now, he thinks. So in a desperate attempt to save himself and Sunwoo, Jacob stands as an intruder in her home to find the red apple from the cafe. He knows she took it home, therefore he takes his hands on the wall to feel himself getting closer to something of a different texture.  

“Why are you in my room?” A voice tired and confused from the corner he just left takes a single knife and lets the blade wound the quiet night. His shoulders tense up and he refuses to either turn his heel or take a look behind his back. 

“I’m not.” Jacob answers in a painfully unconvincing manner. 

“You are.” By the two words alone and her tone, he can see the frown on her face. 

“No.” Jacob walks further away, accidentally hits the wall and moves left. 

“Why are you showing your wings?” 

He’s quiet for a second, “It’s a costume.” 

“Like Cupid or what?” She scoffs. 

He breathes in, “For the las-I’m not Cupid.” He moves his hands in an outward motion, “I’m an Angel, an Guardian Angel.” 

“Seems like I hit a nerve.” She says and sits up. Jacob’s quiet. At this point, the dark complexion of the room and their eyes has adjusted to one another and Y/n sees him in the other end, outlined without any blemishing. Awkwardly rigid in the very end, reminiscent of a lamp post and he caresses his left wing.

“You never answered my question, Angel.” She says. 

“What?”

“Why are you in my home?” 

“I don’t know.” He flees again. 

“You’re in here checking the architecture or what?” She sighs and looks at him with sharp eyes, “I know you’ve been talking with Sunwoo.” 

Jacob looks at her again, expression much colder than before, “And I know you’ve been too, don’t come close to him.” 

“Is that what this is about?” She asks. 

“I’m not telling you.” He takes a step forward and looks over the kitchen  sink, “Where do you have your food?” 

“In the fridge.” Y/n deadpans. 

“No.” Jacob hits his forehead.

“You’re not even human to begin with, don’t tell me where I should store my groceries.” She pushes up the sheet and stands up. Jacob looks around the counter again, to seek a rounded form with red shadows, but as the surface is seemingly empty. Jacob takes three steps towards the window and opens the glass door. 

“Jacob-” Y/n turns from her bead and grabs his arm as his wings fold out in her room. The wind from outside brushes harshly against her skin. 

“Don’t bring Sunwoo into your mess, Y/n.” He looks at her and his eyes of liquid moonlight, in the same shade as his wings but brighter. She’s left with her mouth just slightly agape as Jacob looks less human by a single change in perspective. The wings weighs over him heavily and another wind scatters the hair oóver his human complexion. 

“But I-” 

“Just don’t, please.” As the last words leave his lips and the grip on his wrists has started to loose. A wind much stronger than anything from outside forces her hair to alter from before her chest to behind her back and waters her eyes. She closes her eyes before desperately letting her upper body out the window, watch how his silhouette fades into snow in the night.. 

“Do you need to go, then?” Jacob stands before the sink in his room, drops of water following a constant pattern down the drain as he watches a puddle in the very bottom form. Though, he does shift his vision away, out to the open space before his bed, where on the carpet, Sunwoo lies spread out like a starfish. The sight has become too familiar that when Sunwoo isn’t here and Jacob goes to bed and looks down to see no one, it feels rather desolate. He walks through the front door nearly everyday in the afternoon or evening. Jacob asked him if he should get a mattress, full time on the hard floor spot, but Sunwoo insisted not to.

“Yes, Eric’s gonna kill me if I don't," he sighs. Jacob takes the glass up to his mouth once more and watches Sunwoo shift his head on the ash orange fabric. 

“He’s like “Sunwoo,we’re were you?! I prepared this little bowl-you didn’t even show up!”” His hands up in the air, vertical from the floor. It is rather amusing when he shifts one of his legs up and starts imitating his friend in a high voice. 

“Either way, Y/n’s not gonna be there.” Sunwoo sighs. 

“Why?” Jacob asks. 

“We sat at a cafe, short said, she probably thinks I’m a maniac or something?” 

“Did you tell her about our suspicions?” Jacob eyes him. 

His hands force the rest of his body off the floor. The strands in his hair are loosely tied together and his eyes roll up before coming back down, “No, I didn’t, I wouldn’t do that.” 

Only the awkward lingering noise of the microwave can be heard in the room until Sunwoo speaks up again. To watch the Angel before the counter behind the illuminating light beneath the shelf, “I’m going, you decide on your own, Cupid.” 

Jacob did go eventually, though half way towards Eric’s house Sunwoo needed to hold onto Jacob’s arm. The angel either fell knees first in the snow accumulated corners or landed on his back when the streetlights hit the ice at a certain angle. At the front of the house, behind the windows you’ll see pink purple shade light seeping out and faint music from the vertical wooden walls. Sunwoo takes Jacob’s lower arm tightly against himself as he nearly cartwheels down the steep to the right. 

“Aren’t you supposed to fly or something? Why can’t you even walk?” 

With Jacob being a closer impression of Sunwoo’s potential cross body bag when they stand before the door, the one with free hands knocks at the upper side of the rectangle piece. Before he even gets to fully let his hand fall back to his side, the door frees from the frame and before them stands Eric. Expression extremely bright at first, the most vivid detail of a single scene, but it fades when his eyes form into a frown.  

“Who is he?” The one inside tilts his head and looks at Jacob desperately hanging from Sunwoo’s arm. The angel realizes the rather massive plot hole opening up from underneath him and stays quiet. 

“Jacob, you’ve met before.” Sunwoo says, so clearly without any sort of doubt, that he may have convinced Eric alone with that. 

“Have I?” "Maybe I have?” He looks up at the upper door frame. Crosses his arms and falls into wonder.  

“Let us in Loser, feeling like a frozen fish finger out here.” Sunwoo deadpans and Eric immediately jumps to the right, extends his hand out and motions it slowly towards the warm litten inside. Jacob, though, he’s inside and feels the warmth of the electric heaters dissolve the frozen part of his skin, he becomes even more rigid. 

People with faces he can’t name stands in groups. Each conversation  blends together with the other and that in it by itself, overpowers the faint music playing from a corner on the left. fairy lights taken from the constellation itself hang on the edges of the second floor. It is darkly lit with a warm violet hint covered in every wood wall. A single christmas tree in the inner corner. 

 A strong feeling of embarrassment comes rushing over him in a single storm and Jacob awkwardly starts grabbing the color of his blazer and stands, once again, like a street lamp far from the corner. 

“What are we supposed to do?” Jacob says quietly and looks over at Sunwoo. The expression of the other one is as casual as if they were just walking down the uni lectures, though, he frowns his eyes and asks him to say it again. 

“What’s happening?” Jacob repeats. 

Sunwoo lifts his shoulders, “What usually happens when you’re with people.” 

“Am I supposed to know that?” Jacob higher his voice. 

“This is what middle school dance parties prepared you for.” 

“I never went to middle school.” He deadpans and Sunwoo stares at him with tired eyes. Despite the moon-like shine illuminating over the walls and reflected in the single ornaments, Sunwoo’s eyes are as dead as if staring at a piece of concrete.

“You Loser, I forgot you didn’t go to middle school.”

The Angel is about to take his arm up and defend himself, but Sunwoo shifts his vision from him towards the violent presence hitting his shoulder. The group of people standing before them, Sunwoo, returns the hit on a guy much taller than him. As if a scene out of his horrors, Jacob once again tense up as the group of guys smiles and takes Sunwoo’s shoulder, but becomes wide eyed or frowns when they see the street lamp in blue blazer. 

“Who’s this?” One further back asks and Sunwoo casually takes Jacob’s own shoulder. 

“Jacob, my big brother.” 

“You don’t have a brother.” One is quick to interrupt. 

“Now I have.” Sunwoo turns his head in a motion so quick that Jacob takes a step back. Two of them seem to have fallen into a conversation on their own, slowly walking away from the circle. Jacob makes eye contact with the one closest to him, he examines him in a sort of manner that makes him strained and legs nearly restless. As Jacob takes steps in his place that ultimately leads nowhere, he gives a painful smile to the guy closest. Lips pressed and eyes in full contrast to the smile. Is he even there? Jacob thinks as the guy, still expressionless, watches him.

Another guy, beside Mister Dazed, takes a step out and reaches his hand towards him. 

“Hi, I’m Changmin." Nice to meet y-”

“I need to go.” Jacob says abruptly and the group looks at him. The Angel points at a vague part of the horribly lit corner beside the closed door. It is rather a pile of outerwear, soaked in water from molten snow,  

“You smoke?” One steps closer to him and suddenly throws his arm over his shoulder. In which, Jacob tenses up even more, dramatically presses his wings closer to his skin as he feels the stranger’s arm brush against the back of his neck. 

“He can’t even-” Sunwoo starts. 

“Yeah!” Jacob forces a smile. 

“We’ll go together.” The guy says and Jacob laughs with wide eyes. 

“Actually.” He bends his back just slightly, escapes the stranger’s arms and shifts his direction. Back against the door as he moves all the further from the group, “...alone smoking is my favorite thing.” He smiles, “Been waiting all day!” Jacob takes a last step before turning fully away from them, each guy stares in silence as the door opens once again and his figure disappears out the cold landscape. 

“He won’t need an extra jacket or something?” Changmin points at the door and turns his head towards Sunwoo. In which the younger lifts his shoulder and takes a step further into the house. 

“He’ll figure it out sooner or later.” 

To stand up for another passage in time, Sunwoo stands with the group of guys, laughs in between their sentences and moves his legs to the standard christmas playlist in the background. His stomach may be just so empty that nothing’s enough to fulfill it, therefore he takes his hands up and gently forces the plastic cup in Eric’s hand back from him. And as the alcohol runs between the veins of every passing face, the center floor fills and spreads out in every direction. At some point the music rises in volume and his peers walk across the floor, up the stairs to the second. Someone hangs on the edge and pours the drink down the crowd. When Eric started to hysterically wave his hands to the person above and the broom became a proper part of his outfit, Sunwoo moved backwards from the crowd. Sit down on a sofa beside the christmas tree. 

Though, as he has been sitting in silence, watch the crowd. A voice from another direction than where the silhouettes of black slacks, mini dresses and glitter in hair stands reaches him. Though the hopeless love song playing in his right ear, a gentle voice in his left says his name. 

“Sunwoo?” 

To move from one square of the couch to the other, he holds his hands up as he leans against the arm rest. It is nearly more than a meter in between the two of them as he sits like that. Though, his arms fall down to his lap once he sees her figure, contrasting the christmas tree behind her. He thinks about her posture, much more rigid and sharp than when he sees her in the hallways. Both of her hands, gathered before her thighs and held a small white bag. 

“Hi, Y/n.” Sunwoo says in a monotone voice. His legs fold out in a comfortable position and his face shifts, away from her own presence and focuses on the floor, the high ceiling or the people on the second floor. Y/n bites her lip, just slightly before the lip tint fades because of his motions. The space between, as time passes it becomes a wall. It makes her tug on the red straps of the white paper bag. 

“Are you having fun?” She asks after a time of silence. Sunwoo looks up again at her before, once again, taking a look at the door out. 

“Not really.” He admits. 

“Why?” She dares to take a step closer, so her knees touch the armrest on the opposite side. Sunwoo lifts his shoulder, letting his head scan the room in a panorama like frame before it falls to his shoes. 

“I don’t know, I'm a bit lonely.” 

Y/n nods, though he can’t see it, “Isn’t Jacob here?” 

“He is.” He sighs, “Just pissing himself outside before coming back in.” Sunwoo deadpans as his head lies in his palm. The picture he drew with just one sentence makes the tense grip on the bag a bit looser. Y/n smiles as she imagines the Angel hesitantly running after Sunwoo in the dark. Run around the house ten times, do a breathing exercise he saw on youtube and come back in. She laughs slightly. The faint sound does reach Sunwoo’s ears and he looks towards her side.

“Sounds good.” She nods. 

A sequence of the rather insignificant details of her life. Lied out before him in a span of a few seconds. Sunwoo stares at her, breathing and feels his own essence collapse further down the fabric of the couch. To shift back his vision to the dull colors and silhouettes of his shoes, Sunwoo closes his eyes, smiles only for himself to know, letting the nail of his thumb scratch on the skin of his pointed finger. 

Y/n bites her lip again, feeling a sort of rush similar to eating sugar. It runs towards every corner of her body and cycles back to her heart. Slowly, Y/n takes a seat on the couch, still with a noticeable gap in between. 

“What would you say if you got a present?” She asks and tilts her head to inspect him closely. 

Sunwoo frowns, “I don’t know, I haven’t.” 

Y/n moves a bit closer, “You got one now, would you reject it?” 

Sunwoo silently watches her, feeling how the shirt tightens around his chest.

“I guess not.” He scoffs, this time can’t suppress the way his lips crease upwards. The vision of his eyes won’t seem to fall in place, as they land on the wooden floor again. 

With that, Y/n takes the white bag from her lap, how the distance becomes extremely insignificant when Sunwoo can smell her scent from the bag and her wrists. Though, he simply watches her, without words or major motions. His eyes glisten from the shining light in the ceiling, stars above the ceiling and in the top of trees, but  truly she thinks none of them compares to the single reflection in his dark brown eyes. 

“Here.” She shakes the bag one time.  

Sunwoo hesitantly reaches his hand out for the white paper. Takes the edge between his fingers as if not to stain the perfect white shade. Sunwoo looks between the bag and Y/n’s eyes, she nods her head and smiles again. Her hands grip the hem of her dress as he anxiously thinks about how he opens the package and waits for her confirmation as he undoes each bow. 

As the edges open and reveal the inside. The folds of his clothing fall over his still body and a single strand of his fringe loosens from the side and covers his eyes. With his eyes curved perfectly in chocolate shade, he looks up to her what feels like the thousandth. She nods and he takes up a red apple. He observes the shade and slight pattern in the skin. 

“I bought it for you then, I wanted you to have it.” She says. 

There is too, the pie slice wrapped in plastic and tied in a bow. As if a picture from before has come back to life, to the present to affect their lives. Sunwoo grips the apple a bit tighter in his palm. Let the fruit shimmer from the light in between his fingers.

“I think food as presents is best.” She says suddenly, “You use it.” In the very bottom of the paper bag, filled to all for corners lies a red packet of strawberries. 

He looks at the apple once again. He can’t quite describe the feeling in between the ribs and his lungs. How his heart beats profusely and the vision before him is as if from a dream. Sunwoo swears that this couch, behind this tree in this light, he has dreamt of before last night in his bed alone in his apartment. But unlike him in that bed in  his past, he can’t without hesitation or extra thought bring her gift to his mouth and let it fill his heart. How the red skin glistens astonishingly bright, to fill his heart with red until the end of life. But unconsciously, he turns the apple, as if looking for mold spots. Purple shades where it has been infested and already consumed. 

Though, as Y/n looks at him with an expression she has never given him or anyone else. One that wouldn’t be seen in the crowd, just between where the secret records can be hidden and never played. Sunwoo finally licks his lips, brings the fruit up to his mouth and takes a bite of the apple. 

How the fiber texture crushes and spreads sweetness all over his mouth as he bites down. He looks at the broken spot where the red turns white and visualizes the deep red becoming a part of his own self, his own essence. As he looks up from that spot, he sees Y/n close to him. Her upper body leaned over his legs and her features so detailed in view that everything else bleeds into the other. And he nearly starts coughing on the piece of apple in his mouth. 

Though, as she is leaned over, she holds one of the strawberries in her hand. Bring it close to his lips. Her left hand comes down to a spot on the couch between his thighs to come even closer when his face blossoms spring, red like the two fruits and forces his eyes away from her. Unintentionally lay his eyes on the crowd unaware and start laughing. 

“Please, Sunwoo.” She says in a strawberry sweet tone. 

Sunwoo rolls his eyes, in a single motion comes back up and takes a bite of the strawberry in her hand. Immediately after, taking her wrist and guiding the remaining part up towards her own, in which she too takes a bite. At that single moment, Sunwoo shifts abruptly closer to her chest as a cheer breaks out at the center of the floor. Red paper petals, like snow itself paints the space between floor and ceiling before decorating the floor.

-

How that world becomes silent as he steps out into the snow and lets the door behind him close. Jacob stands with his hands down his sides and watches how the moon and her stars let it shine graze the surface he stands on. The snow around his feet reflects it back, sparkles like it is earth's own constellation. 

After some time, Jacob presses the snow beneath his feet into a tight layer as he walks away from the door. He comes to a rather hidden side where street lights are dim and a single wall faces him. To the right of a lonely window stands a green bin covered in snow. Each step echoes in that corner as he brushes off the snow and opens the bin. The moon shines its vague light over the insides and reveals black bags of shining material. He looks down for a second, letting the cold from around him come between his hands and numb them. 

An angel’s mission has been broken. When Jacob opened the door once again, the crowd, as if all knowing, separated like curtains to reveal the one his purpose is to protect, on the sofa entangled like the galaxy itself with Y/n. How a scenery in a second sets off his breath and the constant fear that has been choking his neck. It chases him desperately as he walks a deep pattern in the snow. He feels his wings from behind. 

At last, Jacob takes his hand back to the front. Down to his right pocket on his blazer where he takes out a lighter. Red hard plastic against his cold skin, taken from the pile of jackets, as he brings it closer to the black bags in the bin. How the music comes to him through the cracks in the walls as he struggles to push down the extinguisher. That single spot on his right thumb hurts as he, over and over again, pushes down the metal. 

A hard knock against the wall before him makes Jacob fall behind the bin. He nearly lands on the snow as he embraces his knees in order to stay up. It falls silent the second after the rapture and Jacob slowly takes the lighter to his chest. Each of his breaths creates white clouds like the snow beneath him. Jacob lets his knees up gently and takes the tip of his fingers on the window frame. His figure in the corner furthest from sight while he peeks into the warm world before him. Three meters away stands Sunwoo with Y/n. Jacob swallows and lets his breath paint the cold window. They stand like him, in a far corner of the room where all the light has a hard time reaching and people pass them by. Though, the cold sensation on his fingers becomes all the more nonexistent as he watches how the two of them take each other's hands and fall back and forth to the muted rhythm. As they start turning around, Jacob sees the light nostalgic of the moon paint itself on his face. How every moment before this one has fallen obscene. 

The last bit of ice around his heart, melts and drains out in the snow, as he watches how the world now belongs to them. It pains his hearts and even more the wings, but how the fear has stopped chasing him, sits beneath the window right before the Angel, to watch their mouth speak words only they can hear. 

Jacob lets his hand fall off the window frame, all as his body too becomes even weaker. Finally, he sits fully in the snow with his back leaned against the wall, right under the window. The lighter against his chest, too, must now fall out of mind and plummet to the snow, like the rest of him. 

“I’m so sorry, I hope you can forgive me.” Jacob whispers, and lets his wings free from his blue blazer and embrace the rest of him tightly. 

A pastel filter lies over the world as Jacob opens his eyes. The angle gives the floor a steep perspective as the wooden lines lead him to the door. Red petals of paper are scattered before him. The spot on the floor has become warm, he feels his body get colder as he shifts his left leg. But rather than the cold, he feels a sensation much stronger as he gently spreads his finger over the floor. At the center of his back, pierce and rips burning wounds in his skin, and it becomes all sharper as the lines of the world become clearer. 

“Jacob?” 

He forces his head up from the floor, to again face the entrance. But as his eyes fall onto a figure, he angles his head upwards and sees Sunwoo looking down towards him. His silhouette is draped in haze and his blurred complexion shows concern over his impending body. Sunwoo comes all closer and falls onto his knees before Jacob’s weak figure. 

“Are you okay, Jacob?” His voice is even louder than the last time. 

Sunwoo’s hand touches Jacob’s arm and in the same instant, Jacob feels a sensation reminiscent of the end of a knife piercing right through the burning spot on his back. As the sensation affects him and forces him to fall back onto the floor, Sunwoo hesitantly takes his hands back, before leaning closer again. 

“Jacob?” 

“What’s with Jacob?” Another voice in the far corner of the room reaches the very mit. Hers is tired and exhausted, reflected in the way she looks around the room from the floor and weakly walks over to the two of them. 

“Jacob?” Sunwoo says again and takes his hands over his upper arm. At that moment, he sees the spot beneath his blazer move frequently, pushing desperately to tear the fabric. Slowly, Sunwoo takes the collar of Jacob’s blazer and forces it off him. As the fabric lies beside his aching figure, both Y/n and Sunwoo watch how the white wings on Jacob’s back spreads free and falls before it fades to black. At the single spot in the room, each feather falls like snow over the pastel complexion. 

Without another second of thinking or brushing his blazer, Sunwoo forces Jacob up by his arms. The fallen shut his eyes fully and his head hangs down and the strands of his hair cover whatever life left in him. 

“Help me, Y/n.” Sunwoo says frustrated. Y/n watches in complete silence and opens her mouth to say something but nothing comes out. 

“Please, Y/n, please.” He begs and Y/n shakes her head, leaves that spot and takes Jacob’s other arm. The Angel hangs by his arms on the two shoulders. He is heavy on their human bodies and Sunwoo starts walking towards the door. 

“Where are we taking him?” Y/n breathes out as her head hangs low because of his weight. 

"The hospital.” He stresses. 

“We can’t.”

“What else should we fucking do?” Y/n doesn’t speak as his eyes are desperately staring into her own. The sight alone aches her. To whatever words that could be voiced, she suppresses them. Take a steady grip on the Angel’s arm and take the first step towards the door once again. Sunwoo follows without hesitation. The trail of feathers, mixed with red paper bits from a past night. How it all seems to be from a different life when they fiddle with the door handle. At last, the apple, half bitten, hits the inner corner of a wall as Sunwoo gets the door open, looking at the new sun as if it is the first time. 

© littleroaes, written and all

symbolism & metaphor guide !

thank you for taking your time to read! a virtual cookie for you 🍪

[simpliao]

hola mi amigo, you wanna ask, I'll give you a lovey dovey ask, what happens when reader, later on in their marriage, found out she expecting and jschlatt and her try telling her in-laws, and they manage to, but at the expense of her getting hassled with snide comments. Maybe it can be an angst to fluff, idk, I like that drama

😩💅🍺

no one else matters ; (irl) schlatt x reader

– part one , – part two , – part three , – part four , – part five , – part six

summary : y/n is eating for two ! although she’s early on, schlatt is excited to tell his family of their to-be newest member… but they just can’t seem to bite their tongues.

info : rude family members, body shaming, heavy swearing, angst to fluff, cute nicknames, pregnant afab she/her reader.

a/n : i hope to god no one goes through my search history because someone is going to think i'm pregnant, it took so much research and ahhhh... hope you enjoy anon !

"They'll be over the moon about it so don't worry, but if anything happens come find me, alright? Stress can hurt the baby, but more importantly it can hurt you."

It was what her husband had been reiterating over and over since they had first agreed to come by for Christmas holidays, hosted of course by his family. By time the time to travel had arrived, she was just past her first trimester and visibly pregnant. Knowing his family and with the handful of times they had interacted, it wasn't always pretty, but knowing of how pushy they were about pregnancy beforehand she only wished for a civil two weeks.

The flight over had gone without a hitch, minus the glares Schlatt wouldn't be afraid to give anyone that he found mildly sketchy or got too close to them in general. Since having found out about the third member that would be forming their family, to say he's become overprotective would be a bit of an understatement. He attended every appointment with her doctor, and executed every order with conviction. You needed prenatal vitamins? He would stop streaming, or whatever he was doing, just to make sure you took them every day, no exceptions. There was a worry about not getting enough fruit or vegetables in your diet? He would sit there and (jokingly) make plane noises to try and feed you, which depending on the day can either make you bawl or laugh hysterically (no in-between).

Many late nights he was awoken to her soft whimpering, and a plea for whatever weird craving that seemed to have disrupted your sleep. He didn't mind getting it, no matter the hour, so long as she didn't try and get things on her own. No leaving the house alone, he know he wouldn't be able to live with himself should he lose both his beloved and his child. It was kept under drapes that she was pregnant for a handful of reasons, if in the situation that she falls victim to a miscarriage, having to explain that to other people would only dishearten the both of them. He was especially adamant about not telling anyone for the fact that if it got out, he didn't want his audience in particular to make their shitty comments and stress her out. Especially when she was more emotionally fragile, and that stress could lead to losing the baby.

But now, standing outside of his old family home, he gave her a reassuring smile and a gentle reminder. "We got this, you got this. I'm sure they'll be happy and all over you, so if you get overwhelmed you always have me." And with the ringing of the doorbell a scurry of different things could be heard from behind, until the door opened to reveal his parents. Smiles were exchanged, it was a bit of a blur to the smaller woman who kind of followed her husband around like a baby duck, the excess in hormones in her body did make her mind slightly fuzzier so it was hard to keep up with multiple different stimuli. And under a heavy winter coat no one even noticed the bulge of her stomach... Except they did.

"Y/n!" Her name was called, turning around she was met with a group of her female in-laws; and with sheepish smile she waved them hello. Before she could even utter out a greeting they had already spoken, "did you gain weight?" The impulsive question making heat rush to her cheeks, again, she opened her mouth to say something. "Ah, no, well actually I'm–..." "You know keeping in shape is an important duty of a wife, if you get too ugly it won't surprise me if you guys get divorced." They held the brightest smiles as if they were giving the most wholesome of advice, but a feeling of dread washed over her as she fought back the urge to cry.

She internally cursed knowing she was way more sensitive than she should be, and quickly looked behind her for reassurance. But Schlatt wasn't there, and with the crowd of relatives that she couldn't exactly recognize it only served to overwhelm her. Their words pierced her heart despite knowing how poorly his family was at wording what they meant; too ugly? So she was already uglier then they knew her to be, what if her pregnant body wasn't as attractive as Schlatt claimed it to be? What if he really hated how she looked? Was she really that unattractive? "You think so..?" She uttered out, "I mean I... He still thinks that I'm pretty even if–" "men lie all the time sweetheart, if you really want to keep him you should consider losing a few. Bloated doesn't look good on you." She sucked in her lower lip and suppressed her urge to bawl, they were probably right, and quietly nodded her head. She knew she'd been eating a lot, he must have thought of her as such a pig.

Yet across the room her husband was completely gushing about his gorgeous, pregnant wife; having already told his mother while his dad had taken their heavy bags to set aside. He was ready to show everyone the ultrasound picture of to-be newest member of the Schlatt family, it was evident from the smile and shine in his eyes that he thought nothing less of the woman he married. He was completely absorbed into conversation that he hadn't noticed the lack of her at his side, and when he leaned into ask for the photograph of their little bundle of joy; he was surprised to not find her where he was sure she stood.

Excusing himself, and being taller than majority of people it wasn't hard to spot her towards the entrance speaking with a group of his female relatives; he approached will a smile and expected her to have already told them. Out of everyone they should have been the happiest, he remembered damn correctly that they were the ones that were pressuring her into having a child just a handful of years back.

"...if you really want to keep him you should consider losing a few. Bloated doesn't look good on you." What? He had heard one of them, just a short distance away his wife turned away from him held her arms and was dreadfully silent. "What the fuck did you just say?" His voice practically boomed above the ambient jumbled up sound of other conversations being held; the group themselves turning to him as well as a few close bystanders. His pretty girl looked at him with surprise and the most crestfallen look, she was on the verge of spilling into a puddle of tears, and he rushed to her side to make sure she wouldn't fall if that was the case.

"Oh! Yeah, just woman talk, you know? She got pudgy and we figured that we'd give our advice and–" "She doesn't need your advice. You've fucked with her head once, I'm not letting you do it again." "Oh, come on Jay, you're really telling me you want a fat, ugly wife?" His focus was upon his almost bawling wife until those last three words left the brunettes mouth; the group glowing with confidence until he turned his head to look at them. They all shrunk under his furious glare, arms wrapped around his smaller lover protectively, words spat with venom and repugnance. "Shut your fucking mouth bitch. Y/n will always be more of a beautiful woman than any of you will ever be. You were the fuckers that wanted her to have a child so bad, and the minute she's pregnant you say shit like that? Do you want us to lose the baby that bad?" Realization flashes their faces at the word pregnant, other members of the family had all taken to notice and begun to stare; their eyes feeling like harsh burns to the smaller woman even if she was shielded by most.

Schlatt had learned to feel her anxiety over time, and his face visibly softened when he felt her arms grip tighter onto his knitted sweater. He let out a soft huff, "we're leaving. You can tell Mom exactly what happened, I can't have Y/n stress out anymore." The room fell silent after everyone had watched the exchange, abashed and shameful looks upon those women's faces as he escorted his lover out. He quickly grabbed his coat and opened the door for his wife, slamming it behind him as the moment the pair were outside a breath of relief escaped him; the atmosphere in there he knew to be suffocating

"Sweetheart..." He began softly, he looked before him where his lover stood with her hands attempting to rub away tears. They had barely been in there for fifteen minutes. "Do you think I'm..." A soft hiccup briefly interrupted her, "...pretty?" A frown fell upon his features, as he rushed in to gently hold her, he didn't want to ask everything that they said as to not have her revisit it; but he knew it couldn't have been any good. He hushed her tears endearingly, letting her begin to cry into the corduroy of his jacket. "Y/n... Do you remember my wedding vows?" He could feel her shake her head no into the material of his jacket. "...I will forever love your smile, your laugh, your body, and you, no matter how imperfect you believe you are. Those were my exact words, I remember them because I mean them. You'll always be so enchanting in my eyes, because you're not just a beautiful face. You're my wonderful wife, you're a damn funny woman, you care about me more than anyone else on this shitty planet, and you'll make for an incredible mother to our child."

He held her close to protect her from the cold, he could feel her gentle smile against his chest, a gentle snow beginning to fall around them. "We don't have to be here, we still have some of our stuff in the car. I'll get us a nice hotel for the night and we can order in whatever you're feeling. How does that sound?" She pulled her head away and seeing that redness around her eyes strained at his heart, he never liked to see his darling cry. "But... But what about your–..." "They can shove their feelings or remarks right back up their ass. No one else matters but my wife and our child, and seeing you so distraught isn't good for all three of us. As much as I know my cousins mean well what they said was fucked, if I see the, again tonight I'm going to end up in a fight. I'm sure their husbands won't be happy with their wives loosing a couple teeth, huh toots?" She let out an almost inaudible chuckle, despite it all and despite how her emotions have been in full swing, nothing made her more centred or relaxed than her husband. He had her glued to his side as they made it to the car, opening the passenger side of the rented out Tesla and kissing her forehead before letting her inside.

He did live up to his promise by finding a luxury hotel closer to the city that offered twenty-four hour room service, and he made sure to share a piece of cake with his lover. Assuring her to eat what she wanted, and that he'd love her no matter what.