#listen i love midnighter to death i truly do

[vintagerobin]

I know people really love and enjoy powerscaling but it's always felt a little funny to me when it comes to Batman. Because what Batman IS at this point is essentially an embodiment of the "power of the indomitable human spirit" trope which has existed for over 80 years. I can just about guarantee you that in that span of time he's faced a character with similar powers to the one you're pitting him against and won. He's survived just about every ridiculously unsurvivable scenario you can think of. If he was truly just a really fit super well trained extremely smart normal human and we were being realistic here half his own Rogues gallery would have squashed him like a bug ages ago. But he's not, he's a trope. And he just thrives on being the most annoying and insufferable unkillable cockroach of a man imaginable about it.

[pseudowho]

The Silent Stars Go By

On the night of October 31st, Nanami Kento feels his death approaching. Knowing you are on the battlefield with him, and knowing he cannot die without showing you how he feels, he seeks you out...and subverts destiny.

Warnings: 18+, MDNI, "last night on Earth" smut, truly desperate, frantic, semi-public, Shibuya ending rewrite

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Nanami Kento knew he was to die, on October 31st.

He was no arithmancer. A pragmatist at heart with a mathematical streak, he had, however, carried his barely living friend to safety, found the bodies of many others, punched a young man to death, and lived to tell the tale. The numbers divined great danger ahead, and, by the time a pink-feathered songbird had sung the perish song of Satoru Gojo, Kento could not deny the maths.

Kento could suddenly see no distant future for himself, as he once could. And yet between then, and now, there was one stark similarity; what future Nanami Kento did see, contained only you.

Behind his eyes flashed a montage of memory-- of midnight laughter-filled dinners at the Konbi. Of shielding you in battle, and you shielding him in return. Of you sitting on his lap, stitching his wounds with utmost care, before your reverse-cursed technique had fully developed. Of falling in love with you, and denying himself joy for believing he may give you none.

Being around you was agony. Being away from you was worse.

"I'll be heading underground," he had intoned to Nitta and Nobara, taking in their girlish features for the last time with a stab through his belly, "after I catch up with someone. Stay safe. Don't sacrifice yourself."

He was a hypocrite. He knew this. He would walk to the gallows, proud, if only he could take you in his arms and cry his love for you, first.

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Looking out over the city, having heard Yuuji's cries for 'Nanamin' only a few minutes earlier, you did not know you were being desperately searched for by Kento. You had determined yourself to find and follow Yuuji, the boy without protection.

The night breeze whipped at you, unhindered by walls and trees, on the roof of one of Shibuya's tallest buildings. Turning to leave, you felt a familiar warmth approaching. The man you loved opened the stairwell door, squeaking on its pivot.

Missing his suit jacket and tie, with his sleeves rolled up, he thrummed with raw, uncontained power. Something feverish stormed within his eyes as he looked to you. His steps were slow, and considered. The quiet calm of his voice was deliberate, soft.

"Kento, what...what are you doing here? Is that blood? Oh god, you're bleeding-- let me heal you--"

"Stop. It isn't mine. Just listen for a moment."

"Isn't yours? Then one of the others? We should get them to Shoko--"

"--I need you to listen, now--"

"--we haven't got any time--"

"I love you." The air fell still; a puff of blossom in suspended animation. You had not realised you were holding your breath until Kento's steps caught up to you, and his hands grasped yours. A melancholic certainty rolled off him. Flicks of blond fell over his forehead, that fervour still gripping him; gripping you.

"I love you. You are the purest truth I know. The warmest light. Anything I am, and anything I could have been, is at your mercy, and always has been."

The gut-churning adrenaline you had felt for the fever-pitch of battle was suppressible, before Kento's impassioned promise. That dam broke inside you, and the terror and adoration and injustice heaved out of you in one great sob. You needed his body flush to yours. Public decency took a back seat. So many years of restraint and doubt slid away.

You looped your arms around Kento's neck, one hand grasping his shoulders, and the other sinking into the back of his hair. Kento almost broke, himself, but couldn't; not yet. He had to show you. Needed to show you.

You felt him pull your head away from his shoulder, and you resisted, until his fingers tangled in your hair, angling your head. You were nose to nose. You could feel his heart booming in his chest, fresh from a fight you had not witnessed.

"If this is my last chance," Kento whispered, his nose stroking yours, "will you let me take it?"

"...what...what do you know...that I don't? Kento--"

"Please." Kento growled, his teeth gritted. You felt the twitching contractions of his belly, his hardening cock pressing against you. You couldn't resist his need to control this, and take what he needed, even if you wanted to. Your breaths ached in your chest. Silent, glossy-eyed, you nodded.

Kento broke, possessing your lips in one shuddering kiss. His hands and body squeezed at your softly yielding hips, all-consuming, trying to overfill himself with any scrap of you he could take. He dominated the kiss completely, selflessly, as thoughtlessly altruistic as he had always been. He groaned, panting through the taste of you, his tongue sliding against yours. His cock wept inside his boxers-- it was all too much too much but not enough--

You mewled, little hands gripping onto his collar, sending thunder to Kento's core. Kento pulled away, cursing, feeling the need to know the scars that pleasure etched upon your skin. You were scorched by his touch, too pliable now to do anything but bend to his insistence.

In blood and brutality you sought each other, beacons in the night with stars as your witness. They looked on, disinterested, as if fate held any regard for the lives of mortals, over gods.

With time as his final remaining enemy, Kento pulled you to his lap, sitting with his back against the low wall overlooking the city. He knew for whom the bell tolled. He would see his duty done before the final chime, and he stared into you in your entirety. Though neither a painting nor an ivory box, he handled you with kid gloves.

You straddled his lap, unbuttoning his shirt, and he whispered, groaning and bucking up against your clothed sex as he watched your nimble fingers press his opened shirt apart. Running your hands in reverence down his bared chest and belly, he could not have loved you more than when he saw his own desperation reflected back at him.

In another life-- in any other world-- I--

He lifted you, enough for you to kick your jeans and underwear off, his teeth bared to feel your core press against his aching cock. He spoke through your kisses, a fractured sentence punctuated by his apologies.

"I didn't-- didn't prepare-- no protection-- I can't-- can't stop-- please don't make me stop." He begged, reaching down to hook his cock out. You silenced him with one hand wrapped around his rigid length, and Kento stilled with a hiss.

--take you to dinner first, I'd show you the world-- fill you with its beauty before I fill you with mine--

"Don't care--" You insisted against his neck, "--don't care...need to feel you." Kento almost sobbed with relief to feel you hold him, stroking the head of his cock between your glistening folds. You let his cockhead and slit catch over your clit, shivering, intoxicated by the way he watched you with one hand splayed across your belly, the other on your hip, and blown pupils. He bucked his hips, needy, full of baleful possession.

--and we'd have a Victorian glasshouse with a garden you'd love-- and you'd plant wildflowers while I do the laundry--

Grasping your hips with a snarl as you stroked his cockhead down, Kento impaled you downwards onto him, the moment his cock notched at your entrance. You squeaked, pussy clenching with the sudden blissful invasion, your squirming making you sink lower. Kento felt a telltale throb of impending orgasm in his belly, and he was certain if you clenched one more time--

Your pussy full to the brim, you instinctively bucked downwards. Feeling Kento belly-deep, his trembling fingers dropped to your clit, and you felt Kento's abs twitching beneath your splayed hands. Feeling two clever fingers bracketing your clit and rolling from side to side, you squeezed him, milking his cock and locking him inside you.

--all the late nights and early mornings and train rides and arguments in sickness and health for richer for poorer--

"--love you-- I love you too." You sobbed into his chest, loose and warm against him. Kento saw stars, coming with a shout, thick ropes of cum spurting into you. Looking up at the euphoric agony on his face, and his fingertips bruising your ass as they pinned you down around him, satisfied you spiritually, in a way so alien to you.

You rolled your hips, drinking down every part of him. The long, powerful contractions of his cock inside you, his stilted low moans, his gasps of pleasure as your tight gloved heat continued to stroke him. Starved for him, desperate for more, you rode Kento to frantic overstimulation.

--so unfair this is so unfair, die for you like you'd die for me like I'd die for you like you'd die for me--

You realised with a happy squirm that he hadn't yet removed his glasses or harness. With his shirt trapped against his shoulders, and his lens steamed, fucking upwards and thrashing his head from side to side beneath you, you couldn't stop yourself. You felt the fullness of his creamy load still plugged deeply inside you, and pushed hard against him. Kento cursed, paralyzing you with a hushed roar of agony, and a hand grasping your throat.

"--asked you to make love to me-- not kill me-- but shit, if this is how we go, just take me with you-- take me with you--"

His fingers had never left your clit, now rolling it insistently, until you were the one wriggling and desperate. Still being stuffed with his cock and cum made your pleasure three-dimensional, and Kento's half-hard length began to stir to life again, still high off the adrenaline of punching a man to death. He growled at you with gritted teeth.

"--beautiful...good girl...not done with you yet...shit, keep it in, keep it all in...take me with you...please--"

With half lidded eyes, you grasped Kento's forearm. His hand still braced you with exquisite tenderness around the throat, a necklace instead of a noose. His second hand worked frantically against your clit while you moaned and begged above him, still speared on his cock, feeling him lengthen and thicken again inside you. You whimpered and keened, and Kento committed you to memory, just like this. He would close his eyes in his final moment, and see you, breaking like spun sugar above him, no sweeter sound than his name on your lips.

--bake for you on Sundays, and the bread would always burn, because we'll be too busy--

Kento continued stroking you, pressing kisses onto your forehead as he guided you down from your high. Cautiously starting to roll his hips up again, he moaned at the slick sucks of his cock sliding through his cum and yours. Unthreading his shirt through his harness, Kento threw it to the ground, before lying you down on top of it.

Otherwise fully dressed, with dried stains of blood rusted over his chest and back, Kento bore over you like a vengeful god. Here to take his spoils, he still handled you like glass, resting your head on one of his planted forearms, with a hand under the small of your back to protect you from the floor.

"...I've wanted you for so long-- you don't even know--"

"I knew." Kento faltered. His anguish at leaving you for certain death sharpened, with the sudden knowledge of past chances untaken. His heart clenched, aching down his arms, steeling himself. He couldn't help but lean into your hand, cupping his jaw.

Nuzzling his nose to yours, Kento melted at your smile twinkling up at him. He smiled back, suddenly bashful, lopsided with crinkling eyes, before biting down on one lip and slamming his cock down into you. Your gasp shook through you, clawing into the harness across his chest and shoulders, hearing Kento swear with pleasure at the intensity of a second round.

Kento barely pulled out, wrapped in your arms and tight cunt. He almost spat with anger at the simultaneous need to savour you, and the need to leave, knowing he could not have both. Duty to you held the greater weight and, feeling another orgasm creep through his back and balls far too quickly, he slowed.

Completely engulfed by the enormity of him, you stared up at Kento, made submissive under his emotional insistence, the thick aching stretch of him sheathed inside you. Your back arched off the ground with a guttural moan when Kento slowed, dragging himself through your core from ball to tip in long, languid thrusts, the whole length of his cock glistening with gluey white seed.

He swore he could feel every ridge of you, the mind-altering bend of his cock as it moulded to the curve inside you. He needed you to carry the shape of him forever, an unremovable flesh-memory. Something had changed in him as you carded your fingers through his hair, whispering praises to him, to try to hold him together.

Kento looked drunk. His eyes were distant and hyperfocused all at once, his breaths and groans gruff, his voice gravelly with emotion as his mouth muffled against your shirt.

"--sorry, I...can't move my hands...hurt you, I--" Kento grasped your shirt between his teeth, ragging his head from side to side with a growl to lift it up over your breasts. He did the same to your bra, gripping the cups to yank your breasts free. They bounced out, full and peaked under his hot, frantic breaths.

Kento nosed at them, pulling his cock from you slowly, only to slam back into you with enough force to leave you writhing and whimpering. His mouth and nose played with your breasts, nudging, sucking and biting, hungry and obsessive. Something primal glimmered in his green glass-concealed eyes, as your mounds jiggled every time he fucked into you. The visual stimulus of you spread beneath him, your tight pussy slick with his cum, doe-eyed and completely willing, sent him spiralling towards his high.

"God I wish I--wish I could stay-- more than anything...cum with me, please please please--"

His thrusts became frantic, rough and sloppy with no warning. Kento's eyes darted from your face, to your breasts and pussy, and back again, drinking in the shock and ecstasy plastered over your face. You were trapped within the humid embrace of him, erotically overstimulated by his smell, his desperation, the constant stroke of his weeping cockhead against your spongy soft spot.

You didn't realise how close you were to orgasm until his position shifted, his trimmed honey-gold trail now rubbing against your clit. Clinging onto him, and rubbing upwards to meet his thrusts, you begged for Kento to help you. Your begging was Kento's last straw, and he gasped, his seed slugging out in lazy, creamy trickles against your overstuffed cervix and pussy.

Barely able to see straight, Kento kept rubbing his rigid pelvis against you, gruff and messy while you felt the drag of pleasure through you, softer than bare feet through hot sand. Kento whispered to you, sweat mingling on your foreheads pressed together; "...don't regret a thing...won't regret a minute-- wish this was different...deserve more..."

Panting in each others embrace, the dreadful horror of reality seeped back into you both. You could hear cries in the distance, the rumble of battles. You fought an unwinnable fight. Silent, and pensive, you jolted out of your reverie to hear Kento groan above you, reluctantly pulling his softening cock free. He knelt, dewy-eyed, watching the gluey drip of his cum from you, moaning and shivering as he held his half-hard cock, nudging the cum back inside with his tip.

The sudden emptiness almost made you weep. You felt the same terrible foreboding emanating from him as you had when he arrived on the rooftop. Kento smiled down at you, heartfelt and reassuring, pressing a folded pocket handkerchief to you before pulling your underwear back on over it. He kissed you delicately, from toe to knee while you giggled, before planting one lazy kiss and nuzzle onto your belly. You grasped his head there, scratching gently at his scalp with your fingernails.

"Stay with me, Kento. Just stay." You pressed, knowing in your gut that his decision was already made. His sigh creaked the leather of his harness with broad, corded tugs of his shoulders.

"They need help, underground. I'm one of the few First Grades available. It's only right that I go down there."

Kento's words, as always, rang with decisive finality. Before you could begin to talk again, he interrupted you smoothly.

"You will not come with me."

"You can't stop me."

"Shoko needs you. Your reverse cursed technique is second only to hers, and she's in need of support. It's the proper thing to do."

You squirmed with guilt, knowing you would choose to let Shoko suffer over Kento. Kento glowered down at you, stern, as if he hadn't just fallen apart inside you. You swallowed, a coil of doubt inside your belly.

"...don't be a hero, Kento." Kento frowned as if he didn't understand, and you insisted. "Don't be a hero. Get yourself out first. I mean it." Kento hesitated, looking out over the city lights, the breeze ruffling his mussed hair. He pulled his shirt back on, threading it under his harness.

"...alright." He lied. He paused. You both stood, sticky with each others' cum cooling between your legs. Nuzzling nose to nose, it felt so surreal to have to toss aside post-coital softness, in exchange for the cold embrace of battle.

"Go to Shoko," Kento whispered against your lips, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, "and help her. Please. Do as I say."

"Promise you'll come back to me." You hushed into his kiss, beseeching him. He softened, deceptively reassuring, while hearing his clocktower chime.

"Always. I'm all yours. Always." Planting one lingering kiss to your forehead, you watched Kento's retreating back, his figure disappearing down the stairwell.

You wondered if you'd ever trust anyone other than Kento, over your own instincts.

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Shoko was surprised to see you, her cigarette drooping as she raised her thick, dark eyebrows.

"Kento told me you wanted me." You insisted. Shoko shot Yaga one questioning look. Yaga shrugged, arms folded.

"We haven't spoken to Kento all evening." Shoko assured. You felt a flash of panicked rage in your gut, knowing he'd lied to you. Knowing he was taking himself to an unwinnable battle. You grabbed Shoko by the arm.

"Where are they? His team? Where is he?"

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Kento was bloodied, missing an arm of his shirt, his vision obscured by the incessant bleed of a head wound. Pushing out of Dagon's domain, he knew he was exhausted, already skirting his limit. He felt a monstrous wave of Cursed energy, so much deadlier than his own.

A volcano-headed Curse approached him, its hand outstretched and hovering over Kento's abdomen. Naobito and Maki already smouldered in agony, and Kento felt the sickening weight of failure in his chest He had only a moment to protect himself, and he may have coated his body in Cursed-energy in its entirety, had he not filled his death-sentenced mind with thoughts of you.

He expected fire and flames...and felt you. When he protected his right half, you had arrived at the edge of a knife blade, and protected his left. The volcano-headed Curse faltered, stepping back with a scowl.

Kento looked down at you, knelt at his side in a braced position. His clock stopped chiming, in a moment of twisted fates reserved previously for the gods alone. He considered that you were, perhaps, a goddess, and he may be your vassal. You looked up at him, bristling with rage, and Kento's heart swelled.

"I'll tell you off later. For now...we have a fight to finish."

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By the end of the night, Itadori Yuuji had gained a brother and retained a beloved father figure. Nanami Kento cast his eyes over Choso with a hum of resignation, considering he may have another boy to look after, too. The patch-faced curse who may have been his executioner in another life, met its end. He witnessed an old friend who was not an old friend, cast a battle royale over the length of Japan.

Gazing in mute horror over the devastation left behind, Kento felt a hand slip into his own. His ears flushed red. He cleared his throat.

"I'm-- I'm so sorry--"

You laughed, your hands over your face. Kento's eyes glimmered with mirth. He plaited his fingers in yours, pressing a kiss to your knuckles, mumbling against them.

"My hero."

[admiringlove]

[02:12] . . .

you hate this. the ceaseless, aching pendulum swing between being wanted and being forgotten, between being held in someone's hands and being left in the cold. you hate the way his name illuminated your phone screen, how the sight of it makes your throat close up, how even before answering, you already know the shape this conversation would take, the way it would begin and the way it would end. it is always the same. it had always been the same. it would always be the same, until the end of time, until the two of you had nothing left to say but still insisted on saying it anyway.

nanami kento had left you one year ago. a full year since he had walked out of the life you had built together, the life you had both agreed was the only one worth living. you had escaped that world together, turned your backs on the inevitability of early deaths and unmarked graves, on the way jujutsu wrapped itself around your throat and never let go. you had believed, foolishly, that love—your love—would be enough to make him stay. but when he made the choice to return to that life, when he decided, on his own, that he would rather bear the weight of curses than the weight of your shared future, it had undone you. shattered every quiet, careful dream you had let yourself hold.

and yet, here he was. calling you. always calling you. at midnight, at dawn, in the dead space between hours, his voice slipping through the receiver like something half-formed, half-alive, a ghost of what was and what could have been. you never answered on the first ring. sometimes not even on the third. but you always answered. because he couldn’t go a week without hearing your voice. and neither could you.

he was still here, in some way. his hands, though absent, never truly left you. they remained in spirit, around your throat, tightening with every phone call, every syllable uttered, every breath exchanged over a line that stretched between the past and the present, but never, never the future.

you stare at the phone, its screen glowing in the dark. his name sits there, waiting, pulsing, like something alive. you sigh, already exhausted, already surrendering. he knows the rhythm of this dance by now, knows that you always pick up after the seventh ring. always. because if you don’t, he knows something is wrong. it only happened once. you had silenced the call, let it ring and ring until the sound dissolved into nothing, until the silence felt louder than the ringing itself. thirty minutes later, he was outside your door.

you hadn’t let him in. you couldn’t. instead, you had stood there, shaking, listening to the way he knocked—softly at first, then harder, more insistent, like he was afraid you had collapsed inside, like he needed to hear you breathe to know you were still alive. when you finally found the courage to speak, your voice was wrecked, trembling. go home, you had told him. i won’t let you see me. not now. not ever. not like this.

on the other side, he hadn’t spoken. hadn’t argued. maybe he understood. maybe he had pressed his forehead against the door, the same way you had, the two of you separated by inches of wood and an entire lifetime of mistakes. maybe, for a moment, he had thought about breaking it down.

but he left.

and now? now, the phone keeps ringing. you exhale, slow, deliberate, and press the green button.

“hey.”

your voice is quiet. resigned. you close your eyes and listen to the way he breathes on the other end, like he’s relieved. like just hearing you say that one word is enough to keep him steady.

you will never see him again. you are sure of it. the moment you do, you will unravel.

so instead, you will live like this. suspended between phone calls, between hellos and goodbyes, between the sound of his voice and the silence that follows. and you will learn to accept that happiness, for you, will never be something whole again. only something that exists in fragments, in echoes, in the spaces where he used to be.

"hello," he murmurs, his voice threading through the receiver, thin and quiet, as if he doesn’t quite trust himself to speak. for a moment, you wonder if he’s sitting somewhere dark, if he’s tilting his head back against the wall, eyes closed, waiting for you to say something that will steady him. "how are you?"

"oh, you know," you exhale, sinking deeper into the cushions of your sofa, folding yourself into the silence of your apartment. the room is dark, but it isn’t dark enough. you wish it would swallow you whole. "same old. work was tiring. watanabe is still working me to the brim."

he lets out a breath that is not quite a laugh, not quite a sigh. "i hate that old man," he says, voice quiet, measured. "never thought i could hate something as much as i hated him."

"you do hate things more than you hate him," you say, a humorless laugh catching in your throat. "don’t start this again. but yes, he’s awful. his hairline receded more, by the way. i just hope it recedes enough for his wife to leave him and take half of his money."

he hums, low and deep, the sound crackling softly through the speaker. you picture him running a hand through his hair, the ghost of a smile curling at the edges of his mouth. "why didn’t you take half of my money when you left?"

you stop breathing. for a moment, there is only silence, stretching itself thin between you, winding around your ribs, settling in the spaces between your bones.

outside, the wind shifts. the old clock on your wall ticks once. the pendulum swings—left, then right. a slow, deliberate motion, cutting through the stillness, marking the passage of time in the same way it always has. one side, then the other. back and forth, back and forth. the way it always is with him. the way it always will be.

when you finally speak, your voice is quieter than before, hollowed out, frayed at the edges. "because i’m not the one that left."

the pendulum swings back again. as it always does.

"right, of course," he whispers. his voice is thin, fraying at the edges, unraveling in a way that makes something deep inside you tighten. "i called for a reason today. i have to ask something of you."

you sigh, shifting, running a hand through your hair as you sit up. the room is still dark, the only light coming from the faint glow of your phone screen, illuminating your fingers, your collarbone, the uneven rise and fall of your breath. you stare at the wall, waiting. you can feel it—his hesitation, heavily thick, stretching the silence between you.

"what is it, kento?"

for a moment, nothing. only the sound of him breathing, measured and slow, like he’s forcing himself to stay steady.

"i must see you. once," he murmurs then, and your stomach twists at the way he says it, quiet but urgent, like he knows he’s asking for too much. "something big is happening. and—"

"you scared?" you force out, trying to make your voice light, trying to keep the weight of his words from settling into your bones. "what, you think someone will come after me or something?"

"no." his voice wavers. not quite breaking, but close. "quite the opposite, really."

a breath. a pause.

"let me see you."

your chest tightens, a sharp, unexpected ache pressing against your ribs. just at the thought. just at the idea of seeing him again, of standing before him, of being close enough to touch but knowing you never could. it’s too much. the past rushes back like floodwaters, like something violent and unrelenting, tearing through the careful life you had built in his absence. the memory of his hands, his voice in the quiet, the way he used to look at you—it's all there, all at once, pulling you under.

your breath stutters. you squeeze your eyes shut, hard, as if you can will it all away, as if you can stop yourself from remembering.

but the past is a pendulum, and it always swings back.

"no." your voice trembles, barely above a whisper, as you open your eyes again, as you force yourself to breathe through the ache curling in your chest. "you know i can’t."

on the other end, silence. then—

"it’s been a year, my love," he murmurs, the words slipping through the phone like something fragile, something on the verge of breaking. "let me see you. just once. i won’t ask again. i won’t—"

a pause, a sharp inhale, like he’s steadying himself. "i’ve been thinking—"

"kento." you say his name softly, and you know it wounds him more than if you had screamed it. "you and i both know that seeing you will absolutely break me." the words come out brittle, cracking at the edges, barely holding themselves together. "i can’t do it. you know i won’t. why do you bother asking?"

a breath. a hesitation. you think, for a moment, that he might let it go. that he might let you go.

but then—

"it’s my last mission," he says, and this time, his voice is even. careful. like he knows he’s treading over thin ice, and beneath it, there is only the vast, gaping mouth of everything that has been left unsaid. "i’m retiring after it. i’ve been speaking to brokers in malaysia about a house, too."

his words press into your ribs, into the hollow spaces between bone and breath. a house. a life. something that could have been, something that—had things been different—should have been. you close your eyes again, willing yourself not to picture it. the quiet mornings, the sun bleeding in through linen curtains, his hands brushing over your bare back, the scent of coffee curling into the air between you.

a beat. then two.

"let me see you."

his voice cracks. nearly shatters, "please."

you exhale, long and slow, pressing your fingers against your temple as if you can rub away the sudden weight behind your eyes.

"i promise," kento whispers, and you can hear it, the rawness, the unspoken grief wrapped around every syllable. "i promise i will earn you this time around."

and oh, how badly you want to believe him.

"i don’t know," you whisper, voice splintering under the weight of it all. your throat tightens, the words catching somewhere deep, barely making it out. "i-i can’t do it."

the silence stretches between you, thick, unbearable. you think, maybe, he’ll let it drop. that he’ll sigh, tell you it’s fine, tell you he understands, even if you both know that understanding doesn’t make it hurt any less. but then—

"i’m doing what you wanted," he says, softly, carefully, like he’s afraid that if he speaks too loud, you’ll disappear. "malaysia was your dream. i’m doing it for us. i’ve spoken to yaga."

something inside you twists violently.

"what if they make you stay?" you ask, brows pulling together, nails digging into your palm. "you know yaga. and i know satoru just as well as suguru did. they’ll find a way to keep you. they always do."

a quiet sigh. the kind that comes from deep within the chest, like it’s pulling out something old, something tired.

"gojo’s helping this time around," he says, and you know, just from the way his voice dips, that his fingers are pressed against the bridge of his nose, that his eyes are closed, that he’s sitting somewhere in the dark just like you are. you wonder where he is—if he’s home, or some rented room, someplace where the walls are too bare and the sheets smell fresh. if he’s as exhausted as you are. if his hands are shaking the way yours are.

"i’ve fought tooth and nail to let go again," he continues, quieter now, like he’s speaking more to himself than to you. "i mean it, this time. after shibuya, i’m done. after shibuya, i’m yours."

a pause. a heartbeat. then, softer, more like a prayer than a promise—

"for as long as you let me."

you press your lips together, breathing in through your nose, trying to steady yourself. but it doesn’t work. because your mind is already moving too fast, too violently, dragging you back to every memory you had spent the past year trying to bury. you think of kento, the weight of him against you, the warmth of his hands, the way he used to whisper your name into your skin like it was something sacred. the way he once belonged to you.

but what if he was lying? what if the mission swallowed him whole before he could come back? what if there was no after shibuya, no malaysia, no home, no quiet life? what if this was the last time you would ever hear his voice like this—soft, vulnerable, desperate to be believed?

and worse, what if he was telling the truth? what if he really did come back this time? what if he stood before you, real and whole, asking for a second chance? what then?

you close your eyes, tight, as if shutting out the world will stop your mind from racing. but it doesn’t. it never does.

the past is a pendulum. and it always, always swings back.

you shouldn’t say it. you know you shouldn’t. the words sit at the edge of your tongue, heavy, waiting to ruin you. if you say them, then it becomes real—this hope, this impossible, fragile thing that has no place in a world like this. because hope is what hurt you the most. hope is what made it unbearable when he left the first time. hope is what made you pick up his calls, over and over, even when you swore you wouldn’t.

and yet.

you imagine a future where you never say yes. where you hang up. where you walk away. where you let kento fade into the past, let him become a story you tell yourself when you cannot sleep. but the thought of it—of a life where he never comes home, where he is nothing more than a voice on the other end of the phone, a ghost in the space between your ribs—hurts more than anything else ever could.

your hands shake. you press them into your lap, try to steady yourself, try to drown out the roaring of your thoughts. but it’s no use. because you already know.

you already know.

"come home after it. i'll wait for you," you whisper, voice small, breaking under the weight of it. your hands are trembling, and you hate that he would know, even without seeing you. you hate that he knows you too well, that he could probably picture exactly how you look right now—fingers curling into your lap, eyes unfocused, teeth pressing into your lip. but you fight against it. fight against the fear, the doubt, the ache that sits heavy in your chest, pressing down, down, down. fight against the part of your mind that tells you this will end the same way it always does.

because this time, you have a chance.

silence. then a sharp inhale, like he hadn’t expected it, like your words had reached inside of him and pulled something loose.

"i love you," he whispers, and it isn’t steady like it usually is, isn’t measured or calm. it’s raw, unguarded. almost a whimper, like he can’t hold it back any longer, like it’s been clawing its way out of him for the past year, desperate to be said.

you close your eyes. swallow down the lump in your throat. exhale, long and slow, before answering.

"i know, kento," you murmur, voice as soft as the night, as the space between your breaths. "i know."

and for the first time in a long time, you let yourself believe that maybe, just maybe, this time, he’ll come back to you. you won't let the pendulum swing back anymore. no matter how hard it tries.

a/n. slowly creeping away because i know people will revolt after reading this monstrosity, also i lowk posted this solely because mischief managed might get delayed again :( © all works belong to admiringlove on tumblr. plagiarism is strictly prohibited.

[changbunnies]

All About You (18+)

♡ Pairing: Royal Knight/Bodyguard!Minho x Princess!Reader

♡ Genre: age gap, royal au, historical au, arranged marriage au (reader only), angst, kind of forbidden love? (maybe more than kind of), basically porn with plot

♡ Word Count: 7.5k

♡ Summary: You, the princess who ran away from the castle after finding out your father, the king, has finalized your arranged marriage. Minho, your royal knight and glorified bodyguard, tasked with bringing you back home at all costs. When found, you hit Minho with a very interesting proposition- for him to be the one you share all your "firsts" with, instead of your inevitable husband.

♡ Warnings: age gap !! reader is ~23 while minho is in his 40s, please don't read if this makes you uncomfortable!, uneven power dynamics, outdated traditions and views on women to suit the setting, brief reference to death by guillotine and death in general, mentions of injury and swordfighting

♡ Smut Warnings (contains spoilers): lowkey corruption kink, loss of virginity (reader), pet names (princess (mostly as a title), good girl), slight sub + dom dynamics, soft dom minho, a lot of kissing (should be expected from me atp), nipple play, oral (f receiving), fingering (f receiving), slight overstim, unprotected piv, multiple orgasms, creampie

♡ Notes: at this point i am determined to write a royal au fic for every member, and my newest offering to you is minho <3 i was literally possessed writing this like once the idea hit my brain i had to get it out asap

♡ Disclaimer: please read responsibly, and remember that this work is fiction and meant strictly for imaginative fun. the idols used in fics are more accurately faceclaims and personality outlines for imaginary characters, and should not be interpreted as factual representations of existing people.

Fuck. Minho was absolutely fucked.

In recent years, he had one job, and one job only, and that was to take care of the princess. Make sure she’s safe, escort her to where she needs to be and watch over her at all times– that’s all. Not always an easy job, but one of vital importance that Minho took with utmost seriousness. In the 3 years it’s been since becoming your royal knight and glorified bodyguard, he never messed up this critically. 

You always had a rebellious streak and challenged authority, everyone in the castle knew that. And part of Minho’s job, apart from keeping you safe, was keeping you in check– and the king made it extremely clear that failing to do so was not an option.

He lost track of the amount of times he uttered the words “Princess, please think rationally,” or “please consider your responsibility to the kingdom, don’t do this,” in a near desperate attempt to get you to listen to reason. 

And today, he fucked up the worst he ever had. He knew you were upset tonight, but he was under the impression he successfully calmed you down, and that you wouldn’t do anything rash. He turned his back to you, thinking the storm had been quelled, and that you’d listen to your father, even if doing so felt like pulling teeth. He underestimated however, just how deep your sadness and anger truly ran, and the very moment you saw an opening, you took it. 

You fled from the castle with blind determination, nowhere to go and with little of value in your hands, fueled purely by the desire to escape your unfair circumstances, and live your own life by your own means. You may not believe it, but Minho understood, and felt for you– he really did. But that didn’t change what his duty was, and even if it made you hate him, he had to do his job to the best of his ability. 

So now here he was, roaming the streets looking for you, the hours passing in a blur. You must’ve done a good job of concealing your identity, because no one he asked had seen a young woman matching the princess' description. And as the minutes ticked by, and sunset turned to midnight, he was at a complete loss of what to do.

He made record time combing the entire bustling town, stopping into places full to the brim with people in the hopes he’d catch a glimpse of you in the crowd, and yet there seemed to be no trace of you anywhere. It was easy for someone to hide their presence in a crowd, or in the rowdy environment of a tavern, and you were more than intelligent enough to blend into a crowd and divert attention away from yourself.

It was entirely possible that Minho had seen you at some point, and simply didn’t realize it, though he liked to believe he’d recognize you anywhere, no matter what you wore. Minho scowled, clenching his teeth as he scanned the dark horizon of the treeline; should he check the outer walls of the town for a clue, or double back and check the streets again?

He doubts you made it out of the town easily, considering you likely had no money on your person and little experience with the realities of the world. You were intelligent, yes, but sheltered; he could easily imagine you quickly getting in over your head, thinking you could make it to the next town without issue, only to end up lost and in need of help, with no one for miles to hear your desperate cries. 

Fuck. If he couldn’t find you, his head would most certainly be meeting the cold steel of a guillotine. He had no family who would mourn his loss, but still, he wasn’t ready to face his mortality. And the king, despite being someone he could call a close friend, would spare no mercy if he failed to keep his one and only daughter safe.

But really, there was more to it than just the threat of death that kept him searching for you. Believe it or not, he genuinely wanted you safe and well, and he'd do anything to ensure you made it back home, even if it made you curse him for the rest of his days. 

As if God himself heard his prayers and decided to grant him a miracle, Minho sees you– there, on the outskirts of town, holding your cold hands up to your face and letting your breath warm them. It’s dark, the street barely even illuminated enough to discern your recognizable features, but he knows without a doubt that it's you standing there in the cold street, because truly, he knows you anywhere. 

By the time you realize you’ve been spotted and recognized, it’s already much too late to flee. Minho approached you with utmost haste, reaching out and grabbing your arm, lest you make the foolish decision to try to escape again. His hold, while not rough enough to hurt you, is firm, and it only takes one attempt at pulling your arm from his hold to know this is it; your escape attempt has failed, and you’ll be dragged back to the castle and reprimanded for your “temper tantrum.” 

Your father never listens to you, no matter how hard you try to make him understand and see your point of view. Maybe if you were born a boy, your opinions would be important to him, and he’d see you are more than an object to pawn off to whatever man gave him the most political power.

“Princess–” “I’m not going home,” you interject before he even has a chance, though you already know it’s in vain. There is no avoiding returning to your glorified prison now that Sir Minho has you in his grasp. 

He sighs, but his face changes to one of sympathy, his grip on your arm loosening ever so slightly. “Can we at least go to an inn room? It’s not safe for a young lady to be on the streets at night,” he reasons with you, as gently as he can manage.

Normally Minho is quite stern with you, but you get the impression that he feels being stern isn’t the right approach tonight. You’re known for expressing yourself very vocally, even when doing so is extremely ill-advised, and he is well aware of how opinionated and fiery you are. 

But treating this display as anything other than a genuine act of desperation, a culmination of years of perceived disrespect and conformity, would be another critical error– one he can’t afford to make. So he will be firm, yes, but gentle in his approach.

You frown as you look at him; you’re stubborn by nature, and part of you wants to fight against him until the bitter end, but he’s not wrong about the streets being unsafe for you at night. You know he won’t let you escape again come morning, but that’ll have to be a problem for later; for right now, you really should heed his advice and go to an inn for the night. 

“Fine,” you concede, much to Minho’s relief. He could’ve forced you to go with him if he really needed to, but he’d rather avoid doing something so unpleasant. He leads you to a nearby tavern, which is still bustling with activity even at the late hour.

He keeps you close as he pushes through the crowd of rowdy drunks to the dual innkeep-bartender, hoping that there is still a room available. The man departs, coming back with a key dangling in hand, “You’re in luck. Last room’s all yours.” 

Minho thanks the man and pulls out his satchel to pay him, leaving a few extra coins as a tip before stashing it back in his pocket, along with the key he was given, and the two of you go up the stairs together.

“There’s only one bed,” you comment as you step inside the room, though Minho doesn’t seem to care much about that fact. “That’s fine, don’t plan on sleeping anyways,” he says as he removes his leather scabbard from his back, resting it against the back of the chair in the corner of the room. 

You frown as you sit on the bed and watch him; he must’ve been in a hurry when he received word you fled from the castle, as he wasn’t wearing any of his armor, strictly in casual wear you’d very rarely seen him in. Probably for the best, you think, because if anyone saw a royal knight desperately searching the streets, multiple alarms would be raised.

He lights the fireplace, hoping to quickly spread some heat throughout the cold room, before he sits in the chair, crossing his arms and watching you carefully. Deserved, you suppose. How is he supposed to trust you’re not going to flee at the first available moment just as before?

You certainly don’t make his job easy for him; he can’t take his eyes off you for a second. The silence between you lingers for some time, the crackling of the fire the only sound either of you hear, apart from the muffled patrons enjoying their drinks downstairs. Minho, despite his relaxed posture, looks like he’d be ready to jump up at a moment's notice should he need to. 

You sigh; should you just try to sleep? It’d feel awkward and uncomfortable to try to fall asleep with someone's eyes boring holes into you, but you really didn’t give him much of a choice. “Do you want to tell me why you ran away from the castle?” Minho asks suddenly, breaking the tempered silence between you. “You already know the answer to that,” you respond, crossing your own arms now. 

“Is marrying Sir Jin really so bad?” he asks, and you scoff, rolling your eyes. “Yes, obviously. I don’t want to. Not that you or my father care about me or anything I think.”

Minho’s brow furrows, the frown on his face growing. “Princess, you know that’s not true. I do care about you.”

“Do you? I haven’t been able to tell in the slightest,” you counter a bit harshly, “and you could help me if you wanted to, you know. I’d be fine out there if I was with you.”

Okay, maybe you’re not being fair to Minho right now. You do know he cares, but realistically, what is he supposed to do? If he disobeyed your fathers orders, he’d be lucky if his only punishment was a swift death.

He was assigned to you because your father trusts him to do the right thing and follow orders dutifully, a trust that is usually not misplaced. But he has to admit, the more and more time he spends with you, the more he feels for you. 

Minho never knew your father, the king, to be an unreasonable or cruel man, but in your eyes, he might as well be the devil himself. And maybe he is cruel– because how do you strip someone of their freedom and choices for your own gain, and not see the harm it causes, the wrong in it?

You are more than a pawn, more than a subject, more than his daughter– you are a person. A person with thoughts, feelings, and opinions as real as any mans, who did not deserve to be treated lesser than for the simple crime of being born a girl. 

But what is Minho if not an upholder of the status quo? He was just a single man, and even if he recognized how unfairly you were treated in comparison to the golden child that was your elder brother, what was he supposed to do? He always performed his tasks dutifully and without question, and it wasn’t until he met you that he began to struggle with what he should do, and what he wants to do.

And maybe he could get you out of this town, help you live a quiet, modest life somewhere new, away from the watchful eye of your father. Where he could be your protector, same as now, but without the guilt, burden, or threats.

You know you shouldn’t take your frustrations about your life out on Minho, but he’s really all you have. You trust him with your life, and he’s shown you multiple times that he cares about you beyond the duty he has to you, or to your father. He's your only confidant, the only person in the world you can rely on. 

Your eyes linger on the scar across his nose– he got it protecting you, the other man’s sword barely missing his eyes and cutting just across his face, and it was only one of many scars he obtained in his service to you. He’d pick you up and run with you in his arms when you were injured, he’d fight off attackers without breaking a sweat, sustain injury after injury all to make sure you were safe.

You’d watch his back, always stunned and mesmerized at the ease at which he cut down your enemies, as if they were nothing but paper. When he’d turn back to you, breathing heavy and sweat only just starting to trickle on his brow, his eyes would turn from the harshest winter chill to the gentle warmth of a spring morning.

He was quiet, stern, but his care ran far deeper than one would think just by looking at him, and all you had to do to see the true depth of his feelings was look in his eyes. So you knew it was unfair to accuse him of not caring about you, to expect him to go above and beyond for you, to ask that he go against your father to give you what you want. But you were just so sad, frustrated, angry, that you couldn’t stop yourself.

“Maybe you’ll grow to love him if you give him a chance,” Minho suggests; you both know that’s never going to happen, but what else can he say? He never married, and had no children, dedicated to his duty as he was; he had no real advice to offer someone when it came to love, romance, and the like, but he imagined it wasn’t impossible to fall in love if you just met Sir Jin with an open mind.

But as stated, that’s never going to happen. You’re stubborn to a fault, and once you’ve decided something, there’s no changing it. The best Minho can ever manage to do is get you to reconsider, but even then, you’re still likely to go about things the way you originally wanted to, with no regard for consequences or keeping up appearances. You’re a fiery woman, there was no doubt about it, and you don’t let go of things easily. 

“The mere thought of giving that man all my firsts makes me sick, it’s vile,” you scrunch up your nose, making your distaste for the man very clear. Minho doesn’t even think you’ve actually met the man yet, but you’ve already decided you hate him– you don’t want to marry him, and so you’ll be firmly stuck in your opinion, no matter what anyone says. 

“Maybe this isn’t advice I should be giving you, but.. You don’t necessarily have to. To give him your firsts, or love him. Find someone you do love, even if you have to keep it a secret, and hold him with all you’ve got. It still wouldn’t be ideal, of course, but.. Well, it’d be something, at least.” Really, Minho is supposed to encourage you to be an obedient daughter and listen to your father without question, but he knows you well enough to know that’s a fool's errand. 

You’re never going to listen, never going to be obedient, never going to stop being opinionated. So what’s the next, most realistic piece of advice he can give? Lie, of course. Make your father and inevitable husband believe you’re a good, obedient wife and daughter, and then go live the life you really want behind their backs.

It's dishonest as all hell, and there would be consequences if you got caught, but if you’re going to be miserable no matter what you do, you might as well try, right? It’s what Minho thinks he would do if he were you, anyways. 

“What about you?” you ask and Minho raises a brow in question. “What about me?” he asks, and what you respond with makes him feel like the air has been punched out of his lungs. “What if I gave my firsts to you?”

Did he hear you right? There must be some mistake with his ears, there’s absolutely no way you said what he thinks you did. “You– what?” Surely you can’t be serious about this. You’re the princess, and he’s just the man who happens to be your guard; a man who is your fathers age at that. But the way you look at him, he can tell you’re not joking in the slightest.

“Princess, I couldn’t possibly accept that,” Minho says sternly, his arms no longer crossed but instead resting on the arms of the chair, hands beginning to grip tightly so he can ground himself and try to make sense of this insane situation.

“Why not? I’d be happier if I gave it to someone like you. I trust you,” you say so nonchalantly it makes his head reel. What the fuck is happening right now? 

And truly, Minho was the ideal man; at least in your opinion. He was handsome, mature, realistic and practical, knew how to reel you in without disregarding the root of what you feel or being disrespectful to you.

He never dismissed how you felt, made you feel over emotional or like a fool who overreacts; he’d ask you to see reason, sure, urge you to think more before acting, but he never, never made you feel like your feelings were invalid. And he genuinely cared about you, and you liked him, were attracted to him, so if the opportunity presented itself then.. Why not take the chance? 

Fuck. Minho was absolutely fucked.

You were just freshly 20 when Minho first met you and became your guard, and hard as he tried to never see you beyond the platonic, he’s always viewed you as an attractive young woman. He liked your fiery spirit, liked how you had the bravery and gall to challenge authority, a skill that in recent months he felt he was sorely lacking. Your attitude was refreshing, and despite your circumstances, you never acted like a damsel in need of his help. 

In a different life, in another world, maybe you two could have met as equals, not painfully stuck to the rules of an unfair, unforgiving reality. You’d be each other's foil; you, the impassioned dreamer with as many thoughts and ideas as there were stars in the sky, and he the realist, who didn’t dim your light but tempered it into a steady, sustainable flame.

You’d take him out on adventures, out of the strict box of his comfort zone, and he’d ground you more firmly to reality, never discouraging your dreams but making sure you took the necessary steps in the right way, responsibly. You'd match one another perfectly, complementary and meant for each other. 

But that’s not your reality, and you both know it. There would never be any coming back from this if you go through with it, and there’s no ideal, happy future for you two to share. “I’m not so disillusioned to think this would be anything other than sex for you,” you continue, and he swallows, mind still racing impossibly, “but it’d be much more meaningful for me with you than some bastard I don’t like in the slightest.” 

You’re wrong. So wrong, and you don’t even know it. It would never be “just sex” with you. You mean much, much more to him than you even realize. “You won’t regret asking a man like me? There’d be no taking it back once it’s done,” Minho can’t help but ask, rationality and reason desperately trying to gain control. 

Despite what your father may believe, you’re a grown woman capable of making your own decisions. And this is a decision you make with full knowledge of what it means for you, more than willing to accept whatever consequences may arise for committing such a sin.

In an ideal world, you’d be allowed to love who you wish, live where you wish, do what you wish. But this isn’t an ideal world, and if there is only one thing you can ever be granted in this life that feels as if it isn’t even your own, it would be this– to have one night, just one night, where you can be the person you want to be, with Minho by your side.

“You’re free to reject me if you’re not attracted to me, but.. My only regret would have been not trying. So I ask, are you not attracted to me?” He looks you over carefully following your question, grip on the armrests tightening.

Admitting that he’s attracted to you may as well be a death sentence. But he can’t lie to you, completely at your mercy. Fuck the king, it’s you he’s really loyal to. All he’s ever done, all he ever will do, it’s always for you. He’s always tried to act in your best interest, to do the right thing, to keep you safe and protected. But does keeping you safe even matter if you’re miserable? 

“I am,” Minho swallows, answering honestly despite his better judgment, “You have no idea how attracted to you I am.”

“So why hesitate?” you ask, fingers trail down your lap, over your knees, to where the very bottom of your dress lies. He watches you, eyes darting from your hands back to your face. You’re watching him too, carefully, considering his every reaction before you make your next move, impressively calculated. 

You take the hem of your dress in your hands, pulling it up leisurely, getting it halfway up your thighs before Minho rises from his chair. He's is in front of you in an instant, his hands grabbing your wrists and stopping you from lifting it any further.

“You’re playing a dangerous game, Princess,” he breathes, voice low and strained; he can’t lose control of his desires, but fuck, you’re making it so hard. You look up at him, meeting his gaze with the same fiery determination you always have, but there’s more there than just that this time. Desire, want, need– all for him.

Fuck it. He’s going to get burned, but maybe it’s worth it. You’ll be his funeral pyre, engulfing him in your flame until all that remains are the ashes of the man he was supposed to be. And what a beautiful way to end his life it will be, lost between your thighs, feeling your nails dig and claw at his skin.

He lets go of your wrists, one of his hands coming to cup your face, thumb tracing over your bottom lip. “Has anyone ever kissed you, Princess?” he asks and you give a slight shake of the head, breathing a soft “No..”

He hums, and there’s a twisted sort of pleasure he derives from knowing he’ll be your first in every conceivable way. You’re not “innocent,” he knows you’re not, but there’s something about being your first kiss, your first cock, your first everything that makes him crazy. 

“And you want me to be the first one to kiss you?” he follows up with another question, corners of his mouth threatening to twist into a smile when you nod, a soft, honest “yes” leaving your lips effortlessly. He leans down towards you, keeping your head tilted up so he can easily meet your lips.

He does so softly, treating you with care. His lips are softer than you expected, and the feeling of them against your own fills you with butterflies. He carefully tilts you back, and you let your body fall back onto the mattress, head hitting the surprisingly soft pillows.

Minho crawls over you, spreading your legs apart just enough to get between them, your dress now hiked all the way up your thighs. He’s hovering over you, looking down at you with so much love and lust and that it leaves you speechless. “I’ll need you to listen to me tonight. Can you do that for me?” he asks, pressing light kisses to your jaw, under your ear, your neck. 

You can, because it’s Minho. He’d never hurt you, never try to control you, never make you feel lesser than. So you can listen to him, because you trust him with your care; he’ll take good care of you, you know he will. He smiles when you nod, and you see him smile so rarely that it makes your heart skip a beat; his role always requires him to be so stern and straight faced, that seeing him smile down at you like this is enough to melt you into a puddle. 

“You’re a good girl when you want to be, hmm?” he hums against your neck, resuming his trail of kisses against your skin, and you can’t explain why, but the words and tone he says them in makes your stomach flip.

If you were in a different world, and didn’t have to return home to the castle tomorrow, he’d take his time marking your neck, filling it with pretty shades of blue, purple, and red, sinking his teeth into your soft, supple skin. He just knows you’d look so pretty like that, and the way you react when his breath tickles your skin and his lips linger, tells him you’d like it too.

His fingers trail down your body, finding the hem of your dress and pulling it up over your chest. You lift your back off the bed when he separates from your neck, pulling your dress off the rest of the way and discarding it to the floor. He kisses you as he fiddles with the straps of your bra, effortlessly unhooking it in the back and pulling it down your arms and off your body. 

He may have never married, but he’s no stranger to being with and pleasuring women. And he’ll make sure he makes this a night you’ll always remember for all the right reasons. Capturing your lips in another kiss, his hands take in your now bare breasts, gently kneading and squeezing.

You try to squeeze your legs together, but his place between your thighs stops the act from happening, and he chuckles against your lips when he realizes what you’re doing. “Be patient, Princess, I’ll take good care of you,” he whispers before kissing you again, and you let out a small whine, not knowing exactly what you want but knowing you want something.

You gasp when he takes your nipples between your fingers and pinches them, not too hard of course, but enough to give him the chance to slip his tongue into your mouth. Your body shudders, you feel dizzy with pleasure and excitement, and the feeling of his tongue circling yours is impossibly intoxicating. 

One of his hands travels down, over your stomach, coming between your bodies to feel your heat over your panties. He’s barely even begun and you’re already soaking the fabric, your eager anticipation for more of his touch palpable beyond all else. He nips at your bottom lip, gently tugging it between his teeth before soothing the sting with kitten licks, his hand slipping inside your panties to feel how slick you’ve gotten directly. 

Your body jolts when his fingers run between your folds, and he barely has to move them at all to get his fingers completely coated in your arousal. He pulls back to look at you, taking in the sight of your flushed face and swollen lips, pretty and perfect.

You’re panting, breathless, overwhelmed in the best way possible. You keen when his fingers rub over your clit in circles, your teeth sinking into your bottom lip as you lift your head from the pillows to watch. “Feels good, doesn’t it?” he asks, suppressing a grin when you whine and quickly nod your head.

“Want more, want you,” you mutter, the most timid you’ve ever been in regards to a man. He coos, giving you a sweet kiss as he continues his stimulation to your sensitive spot. “Remember what I said? Patience, Princess, you’ll get what you want. We can’t rush and have you getting hurt, can we?” 

You pout as you concede, and God, he finds that so cute; he’s never seen you actually act shy and pouty before, and it makes him want to give you the entire world. He’ll give you everything you want, anything you ask for, but he’ll have to remember to tease you first so he can see that cute expression on your face before he gives in to your whims.

“I’ll make sure you’re nice and ready for my cock, so just be a good girl and follow my lead until then. You can do that for me easily, can’t you?”Another shy nod, another adorable flushed look that makes his cock throb in his trousers.

It was a little intimidating for you, knowing how experienced Minho must be due to his age, and feeling like you must fall short in comparison to other women– women who knew what they were doing. But really, that was just your own insecurity talking. He didn’t mind at all that you were inexperienced; in fact, it excited him for reasons he didn’t entirely understand. 

Maybe it was the knowledge that he was the first to touch your skin, or maybe that someone as determined and fiery as you are is allowing yourself to concede control, to let him be in charge of your pleasure, trusting him to bring you to utmost bliss. What bigger display of trust could you ever show him? Your glassy, pleading eyes, begging him for more but still waiting for it just as he asked– you’re too good for him. He’s going to ruin you. 

He takes his fingers away, and you have to physically stop yourself from whining at the lack of contact, lest he remind you again about “being patient.” “Open your mouth for me,” Minho requests, and though you are a bit confused, you do as he asks immediately, obeying without question.

Fuck, that’s hot; the image of you, mouth open, tongue slightly sticking out and waiting to receive whatever he gives you is something he never wants to forget. Minho slides two of his fingers into your mouth, instructing you to lick, to get his fingers nice and wet.

Truthfully, you were more than lubricated enough to take his fingers without this step, but he couldn’t resist the urge to see you this way. He pushes his fingers in your mouth down to the knuckle, and you persist with coating them in your saliva even as you gag and tears prick the corners of your eyes. 

He showers you with praise, slipping his fingers out of your mouth when he feels satisfied with the work you’ve done on them, kissing your cheeks, feeling the heat of your face on his lips. Slipping his hand back inside your panties, he presses the tips of his wet fingers to your hole, and you instinctively suck in a breath, body unconsciously tensing from the anticipation.

“You have to relax, Princess, it won’t feel good if you’re tense,” he explains sweetly, shaking his head when you mutter a soft apology. “Don’t be sorry, not for that. Just focus on me, hmm? On this,” he whispers, his lips lingering on yours in a deep, impassioned kiss.

His fingers stay completely still until he feels your body start to release its tension, heeding his advice to focus more on his kisses than the motion of his fingers. He keeps kissing you even as the first of his fingers finally starts to push inside you, and you moan into his mouth, hot pleasure licking your skin. 

He moves his finger in and out slowly, making sure you’re well adjusted before he pushes in another one, hooking his fingers to find that delicious sweet spot he knows will have you crying his name in no time. You gasp loudly when he finds it, your hands twisting the sheets beneath you between your fingers, your entire body trembling.

It feels so good you almost can’t breathe, and when he picks up his pace, hitting your spot over and over as he brings his thumb to your clit, you know you won’t last long at all. “M-Minho, I’m– 'm gonna–” you try to warn him, but the words die in your throat, the pleasure too overwhelming to continue to try and form a sentence.

He simply hums, continuing his motions until your eyes are rolling to the back of your head, sharp, shuddery gasps and moans tumbling from your lips as your orgasm takes you. “That’s it, just let go, just like that, I’ve got you,” he praises, pressing kisses to your hot skin, helping you ride out your high.

Before you can even fully recollect your breath and get your racing heart back under control, he’s pushing a third finger inside, the trembling in your body intensifying from the addition. “You need more to get ready for me,” he tells you, and in your fucked out state all you can do is nod, taking his word as gospel truth, “need to stretch you good to make sure my cock fits.”

All you can do is lay there and take the onslaught of pleasure, unable to think of about anything other than how full and good his fingers make you feel. You don’t even register that he’s moved your down your body and tugged your panties to the side until his tongue is meeting your clit, swirling around it in expertly practiced circles, making you desperately cry out his name.

Your fingers tangle in his hair, tugging harshly as your hips buck up to keep feeling the delicious sensation his tongue provides you. He flattens his tongue and lets you grind against it as you want, the motions of his fingers not stuttering or ceasing despite the movement of your hips. 

You feel the familiar heat pooling your stomach, another orgasm approaching quickly, the sounds you release turning into desperate whines and whimpers as you chase the feeling. It only takes a few more rolls of your hips and thrusts of his fingers to have you releasing all over his face and gushing around his fingers.

He sits up and pulls his fingers out when your body falls limp, chest heaving and ears ringing as you try to recover from the mind-blowing experience you just had. Your eyes are closed, and you can feel his weight shift, can hear the soft clink of his belt unbuckling, followed by the rustling of clothes.

You open your eyes to see Minho’s cock is now out, his hand lazily pumping it and spreading the pre-cum that accumulated and dripped over his time focusing on you. You reach a hand out to touch it, to replace his hand with your own, but he grabs your hand before you can, instead making you intertwine your fingers. 

“Tonight’s all about you, Princess. Don’t worry about taking care of me,” he says, kissing the back of your hand and then holding it down right above your head. You’re not quite pinned, easily able to snake your hand out of his hold if you wanted to, but you have to admit, you like the feeling of his hand keeping yours held down.

He rubs his cock between your folds before he lines himself up with your entrance, though you didn’t miss the subtle smirk on his face when you whined from the feeling of his tip rubbing against your clit. “Squeeze my hand if you need to,” Minho tells you before taking your free hand and bringing it up to his shoulder, “and hold onto me.”

Your heart squeezes in your chest; the hidden romantic in you yearns to tell him you love him, to thank him for taking such good care of you, to express how you never want this night to end, but you know that would be a mistake. Neither of you can afford to let your emotions spill out, so you swallow them down the best you can, deciding to just live in this moment, to experience it for all that it is and all that it means for you.

The initial push is slow, and thanks to his diligent preparation, there is little physical pain or discomfort you experience from the stretch of his cock. A slight sting, sure, but nothing you can’t easily handle, and it’s barely even recognizable when compared to the pleasant fullness you feel. So when you squeeze his hand, and your eyes well with tears, it’s not because you are pained; it’s because you finally have something you want, a happiness you thought would forever elude you.

He takes his free hand and wipes away the tears from your eyes, a soft look of concern on his face. “Hurts?” he asks, but you shake your head quickly.

“Feels good, I just– I..” you struggle with the words, knowing you can’t express how you actually feel about him even if you felt you could. “I know. You don’t have to say it, I know,” Minho speaks to you softly, and the kiss he gives you very nearly makes you sob.

There’s still a few inches left before he’s fully inside you, and he pushes the remainder in slowly as he continues to kiss you, his free hand now rubbing soothing circles on your hip with his thumb. Minho does well at maintaining composure, staying firmly in control of himself and his body despite the way your walls squeeze and suck him in, despite the way you whimper when you feel him throb, or cry out against his lips when his tip kisses your deepest spots.

“That’s a good girl, taking all I give you, doing so well,” he praises you some more, and you love when he tells you how good you’re doing if the way you clench around him is any indicator. “Fuck, Princess–” he groans when he finally starts to move, pulling out and pressing back in much more slowly than he normally would, but the wet friction you provide him is delicious.

“Minho, I–” you start, interrupted by a sharp gasp when he finds your sweet spot with his cock.He looks at you as he stills his hips, patiently waiting for you to continue in case what you have to say is important, or a request for him to stop.

You swallow, face heating up but determined to get out what you want to say. “J-Just this once, I don’t want to be the princess. Call me by name, please–” Oh, that’s what you want? He can do that, easily; he’s already groaned your name countless times in the privacy of his room, stroking his cock to the thought of you.

The sound of your name falling from his lips as he resumes the thrust of his hips has you clenching hard, stars erupting in your vision as he picks up his pace, beginning to quickly and mercilessly hit your spot, over and over again. He takes one of your legs and props it up over his shoulder, allowing more of his cock to fill you up, the creaking of the bed and the sound of skin slapping beginning to overpower the noise from downstairs.

Taking his other hand away from yours, you’ll have to forgive him, he licks his fingers and then brings them to your clit, wanting nothing more than to see and feel you release on his cock. It only takes a few more thrusts and circles from his fingers to have you crying out his name as you cum, fingers digging into the sheets beneath you as your body shakes and legs tremble.

But Minho hasn’t cum yet, so he’s not quite done with you– not that you mind in the slightest. You’ll let him chase his pleasure as long as he wishes, even if it leaves you a drooling, fucked out mess in the end.

He pulls out of you, just long enough to sit against the headboard, and then he’s pulling you on top of him, guiding you to sink back down on his cock and sit fully in his lap. The new position has you rolling your eyes to the back of your head, Minho guiding the movement of your hips with his hands as he thrusts up into you.

He’s quite literally doing all the work, but that’s perfectly fine; this night is supposed to be about you, after all, and he doesn’t want you to lift a pretty little finger. Just let him use you a little until he cums, that’s all he needs.

You’re panting against his neck, head laid on his shoulder and nails digging into the skin of his back beneath his shoulder blades. The sting of your nails in his skin is just how he imagined it to be, and his head is falling back against the headboard, low grunts and groans of your name leaving freely as his cock throbs and twitches, getting closer and closer to his release.

He uses one of his hands to grab your face and lift it up to his, crashing his lips to yours in a desperate, impassioned display of love and lust. A few more snaps of his hips and you feel his cum spurting inside you in long, thick ropes, the sensation sending you forward into yet another orgasm of your own, your desperate sounds muffled only by Minho’s mouth on yours.

Your body collapses against his when the moment slows to a stop, both of your chests heaving and breaths heavy as you lie against him. His arms wrap around you snuggly, and keep you upright against his chest. You can hear the quick, erratic beating of his heart as he catches his breath, looking up at him to see his eyes closed and sweat trailing down his brow towards his cheek.

He looks beautiful like this, you think; you hope he thought the same of you. Even as his cock starts to soften, neither of you move, and though your legs protest and beg to be stretched out, you refuse to leave your spot on Minho’s lap.

“Are you alright, Princess?” he asks once he’s collected himself, pushing your hair from your face and wiping the sweat from your brow.

“Mhm, just want to stay like this,” you reply, and Minho smiles softly, rubbing over your shoulders and down your back in a sweet gesture of comfort. You’re silent like this for some time, just simply enjoying the feeling of him, the sound of the crackling fire, the warmth he and this room provides you.

“Does my happiness really have to end here?” you can’t help but quietly ask, and Minho is quiet for a moment, carefully considering before he speaks.

In a different world, in a different time, in a different place, maybe the two of you are meant to be. There’s comfort in imagining yourself there, truly happy with Minho, letting him care for you while not snuffing out the flame that is your pride, ambition, and spirit.

It’s not meant to be, you both know that to be true. To be with each other required great risk, sacrifice, hardship. But again he has to wonder, is being safe worth the cost of happiness? Would you even truly be “alive” if your every moment was spent miserably?

He doesn’t want to see the very core of what makes you you be snuffed out by selfish, idiotic men and their expectations of what you should be. You’re much younger than him, and it would be impossible for him to be there for you for the rest of your life, but he can be for the rest of his, at least.

“Maybe not,” he answers, unsure of what the future holds for the two of you, but not entirely ready to give up so easily. He could accept his fate, accept that love is something out of his reach, but it’s your happiness on the line that makes him want to fight for it. 

There’s a lot he could lose by helping you escape this life you feel trapped in, but he’d rather see you happy than wasting your days away in the castle, subservient to a man you loathe. Your love isn’t meant to be, but that’s okay; he’ll help you all the same.

He’s loyal to you, and only you, he’s decided– so if you make your future husband, your father, or even the entire kingdom your enemy, then they’ll be his enemy too. And it’ll all be worth it just to see you smile for a little bit longer.

[grimmweepers]

— ☆ 𝐌𝐈𝐃𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐃𝐀𝐇𝐋𝐈𝐀

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: whenever summer comes around, especially when dahlias bloom, everything begins to remind you of your late lover

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: alhaitham x gn!reader. sfw. angst. modern!au (could be read as canon tbh), character death mention (alhaitham), hurt/slight comfort, very bittersweet, previously established relationship, unresolved grief, reminiscing, heavy summer and flower themes 0.8k wc. masterlist | byf/dni

a/n: this is my submission for the @pixelcafe-network's Challenge Friday that we do every few weeks. this time the prompt was "goodbye, my summer love". as I deal with some personal grief rn, writing this was a nice way to cope, and doing a very angsty take was kind of fun. the title of this drabble was named after the perfume 'Midnight Dahlia' by Korres but the plot is my own

reblogs and interactions are always appreciated ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

Summer days were always long and languid.

Once, they felt like a letter from a lover, but now they remain a capsule of something lost. Alhaitham always said that when being bathed by the sun, time truly slowed down; if you listened carefully, you could hear the world hum under its breath. 

Alhaitham said a lot of things, which was ironic because back then, you and everyone who knew him, had always teased him for being the quieter type. 

But the truth was you never fully understood ‘quiet’ until he was gone.

It was during the height of summer when he’d bring you dahlias. With his endless knowledge of everything that lived and breathed, you quickly learned the meanings — purple for dignity, yellow for joy, white for purity. His mixed bundles were his way of telling you that, to him, you were all of the above.

Dignified. Joyful. Filled with the purest form of love. 

They weren’t always your favourite but over time, you had grown to love them because they reminded you of him. Since the day he left you, it took you longer than you wanted to admit to stop weeping every time you saw one.

Still, you made the effort to bring some home whenever they were in season. It was akin to pretending that he was not truly gone but just somewhere else for a while.

As the last day of summer transitioned, you sat on the porch, watching the sky deepen into the hours before dawn. The dahlias in the vase beside you were wilting, petals curling as if bracing for the inevitable chill of autumn. Your chest tightened, knowing what that meant.

People used hourglasses to measure time. You had flowers.

You brushed the fragile petals with your fingertips, and for a fleeting moment, you were taken to a time when your world was whole.

It was a late evening when you and Alhaitham sat in silence, surrounded by the last blooms of the season. He had been reading, and you simply watched him, content with the quietness. Amused, he rose from his spot to pluck a single dahlia from the garden and tucked it behind your ear. You were baffled, he noticed in your face, but you relaxed when you were met with his eyes. They were honest and made your skin grow hot. They were worth a room full of gold.

It had been years since Alhaitham passed. The grief dulled but it never left, lingering like a curse that could not be broken. You tried to move forward but summer always brought him back.

Something as simple as a stroll on the beach was enough to tug at your heart because the sand bore one less set of footprints, the warmth of the sun graced one less body, and sometimes when the sea breeze came, you felt the echo of his presence behind you as if you were still walking, hand in hand. 

But it was the dahlias that hurt the most. They mostly bloomed in the heat and every summer, they seemed to grow just for you, as if Alhaitham was sending them as a reminder. 

Closing your eyes, memories came flooding in like waves, threatening to pull you under into the past. You remembered how his hand brushed against you the day he made you his and your fingers involuntarily twitched at the thought. In his bedroom, the air was thick with the scent of earth and flowers, and sunlight spilled lazy shadows onto the wooden floors through his sheer curtains. Your lips quivered because you never forgot how it made you feel when he leaned in and kissed you. You could still taste the sea salt on your lips.

Time stretched endlessly that day but time caught up with everyone, eventually.

You exhaled a shaky breath, your jaw was trembling.

Summer always ruined you.

Grief, no matter how much time passed, always weaved its way back in. Saying goodbye to him never felt final. He lingered in the corners of your heart, in warm afternoons, in the bloom of the dahlias.

When a cool breeze brought you back to the present, you felt the world shake. You opened your eyes just in time to see one of the petals lift from its stem and float away. It danced through the air, weightless and alone, waiting to disappear into the night. You watched it until it was out of sight, lost to the starless sky.

“Goodbye, Alhaitham,” you whispered. You even thought you smiled a little, too. 

For the first week of autumn, you returned to the porch, waiting for a hint of rain and watching for any sign of encroaching storm clouds. You breathed in and out. It was time for the axe to fall.

Goodbye, Alhaitham.

The dahlias will come again next summer, and with them, so would your memories of him. 

© 2024 grimmweepers — do not repost, copy, translate, modify my work on any platform.

networks: @houseofsolisoccasum @nereidsrealm

dividers by @/adornedwithlight

[gambleofstars]

Lucifer HCs with Lust Sin!Reader (amab, gn)

₍ ⌨ ᶻᶻᶻ gambleofstars is typing ... ₎

ପ(๑•̀ᴗ•̀)* NOTICE: this post is NSFW, so minors do not interact.

tags: sub!lucifer ; NSFW ; gn reader ; handjob ; hickeys/biting ; tender & gentle ; size difference

↳ ❝ [a/n: LISTEN. listen. i love ozzie to death but i really wanted to see how this would play out, so... purely self indulgent :3 also, writing sub!lucifer is a drug and i want more. also yeah, i made the reader taller again before you're in my house ;) enjoy yourself ] ¡! ❞

𓆩♡𓆪 To simply put: you are a menace.

𓆩♡𓆪 You usually spend your days at the Lust Ring, naturally. Doing your daily tasks, taking care of things, etc. And of course, enjoy your night to the fullest.

𓆩♡𓆪 At some point though, maybe around midnight, you get a bottle of your favorite wine and one of just grape juice; then take your private portal (courtesy of who you're visiting) to the Pride Ring.

𓆩♡𓆪 This, is where Lucifer's struggles begin.

𓆩♡𓆪 He looks back at you in the doorway of this bedroom with an unimpressed look on his face as you sway your tail back and forth with a delighted smile.

𓆩♡𓆪 (Though he does appreciate you bringing non-alcoholic drink for him)

𓆩♡𓆪

"Yeah, yeah.. Come in, make yourself at home" Lucifer rolls his eyes "As always"

You hum, amused "Oh Lu, dearest, you act like you don't enjoy my visits" you set the bottles on the small table near his balcony and sit down. The slight breeze made the sheer curtains sway.

Sheer, like Lucifer's night robe. With feathers at the cuffs and the ends, truly as dramatic as him; pink and pretty. It flutters like waves across the floor as he brings two glasses from a nearby display cabinet.

He sighs "It's not that.." he trails off and you see his eyes go into that place they sometimes do - somewhere you can't follow. Before silence can get awkward, he opens the wine bottle and pours you a drink.

You can't help but smile to yourself; always in little things, you can see how much this adorable angel treasures pleasing others.

"Did something happen?" you finally question, swirling the wine a bit before sipping.

You observe his every reaction: the way his hand falters with the bottle of juice, his eyes dart around for a split second, his breath gets caught in his throat - Yeah, something is up for sure.

"No! Um- no..." he mumbles and takes a swing of his juice.

Oh you silly little man. You reach over to him, cradling his small face easily with the palm of your hand "Little star, what troubles you?" you keep your voice low, afraid to startle the delicate atmosphere.

He leans into your touch and sighs in defeat "Just bad memories is all... Today marks 7 years since-" it looks like the said memory gets too painful to think about and makes him close his eyes: almost like he was hiding from it.

Lilith. Honestly, you two never really interacted, but they seemed happy together, but now was not the time for questioning.

Instead, you sigh deeply and get up. Before Lucifer can protest your missing touch, you grab his glass and set in on the table; it's easy to scoop him up into a bridal style and carry him to the bed. Meanwhile he looks up at you with those round, curious eyes.

"It pains me to see you so" you explain and settle comfortably on the soft covers and pillows, cradling Lucifer to lay mostly on you. You kiss his golden hair "Such precious little angel you are, pretty like a true star. This sadness is unsuited for your beautiful face."

He looks down, almost ashamed, but you assure him with another kiss - on his cheek this time "I blame you not for this, darling"

You both lay in a comfortable silence for a while, as you stroke his hair and leave butterfly kisses on his face. After a bit of thinking, you decide to comfort him in a way you know best - and in what you specialize in.

"Darling, would you let me soothe you?" you ask quietly.

He knows what you mean - you two regularly meet up for this type of thing after all. With the vulnerable state of his mind, you know it's asking a lot for him to trust you, so you wait with bated breath.

He nods with unshed tears sparkling in his eyes, looking up at you like you're his one and only savior. Oh to savor this sweet thing, all doe and delicate, like a doll.

You'll make sure those bad memories will be at the very back of his mind for tonight.

"Ah! Oh-!" the king squirms against your hold on his hip, but to no avail. Your other hand has a gentle hold on his cock, stroking it from time to time - being just a tad bit mean to hear more of those cute little noises.

You're sure your claws will leave indents on his hips, but they'll heal soon enough (you can't help but be a bit displeased). His porcelain skin is littered with red and purple bite marks, all of which has caused him to moan and whine.

He's arching his back and clutching with both of his hands at the pillow, thrashing his head against it. All the sensations are clearly overwhelming him, but he's enjoying every second of it.

Both of your hands move up to his lithe waist and you switch your positions. You sit against the pillows and place him on your lap, so that he's straddling your thighs.

"H-huh?" Luficer's brain seemed to slow down, but he soon adjusted himself to his comfort; his hands clutched onto your dress-shirt and he rested his face onto your chest, gluing himself to you. You couldn't help but swing one arm over his shoulders to hold him close.

"Feels so- ah!?" you didn't even let him finish his sentence before starting to stroke him again - harder and faster this time, holding him tighter when he started to squirm again "I c-can't!- oh! ah! Don't stop! Please please please!"

There was no need for begging but you weren't going to complain.

You pulled back a bit to see his face, almost glittery cheeks and rosy lips; you lean down to kiss him - as deep and sensual as you can. You want him to know that you are his savior and you will never leave his side. Not like her.

He whimpers into the kiss like he knows your intentions, bucking up against you, desperate. Now he's the one cradling your face and looking you deep in your eyes when you separate. They speak so much, yet none of the words leave his lips. Not yet.

Soon enough, his eyes roll back and he collapses back onto your chest, losing his thrusting rhythm and chasing his climax. Cute little ah! ah! ah!s are forced out of him and one very adorable high pitched whine when he finally cums.

You let him lay there, catch his breath, as you rub his shoulders to chase away any tension in them. He looks up, almost looking startled "But wait! Y-you... Don't you..?"

You laugh and kiss his forehead "No darling, this night is about you and I can't be more delighted" you slowly pick him up and make your way towards the bath room.

You've spend many nights riddled with mind-numbing ecstasy before, but these tender nights - those that end with being in a warm, bubbly bath with Lucifer - will forever be your favorite.

hehe :3 how was it? i feel like it would do good with more parts? or should i just leave it like a one-shot? meh, let's see if inspiration strikes again

signing off, gambi

[gleamingyu]

hits different.

part I of the midnights series. inspired by taylor swift’s midnights. part II

pairing: music-producer!seungcheol x lawyer!fem!reader [exes-to-lovers]

genre: romance. slight angst. drama.

warnings: she/her pronouns for reader (but no specific physical characteristics). mentions of a pretty rough breakup. slight angst. some light cursing. mentions of death (jokingly though). terrible knowledge of law stuff (thank my brief interest in htgawm). yearning. loads of miscommunication. slow burn. cheol & reader are both stubborn. mentions of drinking. alternating povs. lower caps intended [if there’s anything i missed, please let me know!]

word count: 4.7k

notes: this is the first part of a new series i thought of! this is also my first time writing (or more like, finishing writing) something, so please be kind! any comments, reblogs or likes are welcome. and thank you to whoever decides to give this a chance :)

summary: still recovering from a not-so-fresh breakup, seungcheol leans on his friends to get back on his feet. it turns out to be much easier said than done, especially when his record label recruits the help of a law firm to deal with a recent scandal, which just so happens to be the same firm his ex works at. just his luck.

if anyone could see the scene in front of mingyu, they’d be severely concerned, much like he is at this very moment.

seungcheol is quite literally buried under a pile of blankets on his bed, the only visible part of his body a tuft of his dark brown hair. the floor of his bedroom is covered in clothes and empty food containers, and the air feels so stale and hot, it’s taking everything in mingyu not to gag. there is no light coming into the room except from the lightbulb shining in the hallway where mingyu is standing, and… is that… phoebe bridgers he can hear playing from somewhere?

mingyu glances down at his feet where kkuma, seungcheol’s devoted dog – and only girl who’s ever truly loved him, according to him – is sitting staring right back at him, a look on her fluffy face that mingyu swears looks just as depressed as her dad.

“this is way worse than i thought,” mingyu sighs, finally stepping into the bedroom. “okay, enough of this!”

mingyu grabs the blankets on the bed and pulls them away, revealing a very aggravated seungcheol. “what the hell are you doing?!”

“i’m not sure yet, because this,” mingyu gestures around the room, “is a lot. but it starts with you getting your ass out of bed and into the shower. immediately. this place smells like there’s a corpse somewhere in here.”

“yeah, it’s me. i’m the corpse. or i wish i was, because that would mean i’ve finally died,” seungcheol groans, turning away from mingyu and effectively shoving his face into the bed.

mingyu sighs, turning around to start collecting some of the dirty clothes on the floor. he finds himself regretting not calling jeonghan or joshua to come with him, because seungcheol might have been more easily persuaded to stop moping with them around. the reality is, they all thought seungcheol was doing better; he was back on his grind at work, finishing several albums he had been producing for, he was making progress in his jiu-jitsu classes, and he even joined the rest of the guys on their trip to australia last month, with minimal persuasion from his friends.

looking at the shell of a man laying on the bed in front of him, mingyu realizes he should’ve asked. he should’ve asked his friend how he was really doing, what he was feeling, what he could actually do to help him move past this.

better late than never.

“listen,” mingyu starts, going to sit on the edge of seungcheol’s bed but reconsidering. who knows when he last changed these. “i’m sorry if we haven’t really been there for you. i know a thing or two about breakups and heartbreak, so i guess i should’ve figured you weren’t alright, not like you said you were. you don’t have to keep all you’re feeling locked up. you can talk to us.”

seungcheol’s head moves slightly to the side, peeking at mingyu from the corner of his eye. he sighs, and turns on his back. mingyu tries not to cringe at seungcheol’s sullen face, his eyes red and still wet, as if he was still crying when mingyu arrived at his apartment.

“don’t beat yourself up, gyu. believe it or not, i was actually doing better. but a few days ago, i … i was cleaning around the closet by the entrance and …” he pauses, and mingyu thinks he might burst into tears. seungcheol breathes in however, closes his eyes, and continues. “i found one of her old hats. you know, the yellow crochet bucket hat she always used to wear in the summer? i bought it for her birthday when we had just started dating and … i don’t know, i just broke down. it hit me again that we’re over. like really.”

you and seungcheol broke up … four, five months ago? seungcheol shakes his head, he feels like time hasn’t passed the same since. days pass him by where he just goes over and over your last conversation – which was more of a fight, really – and he always ends up regretting everything he said that day. regrets resenting you for always working late, for never asking him to accompany you to firm events… regrets accusing you of some unspeakable things.

looking back, he can’t believe how big of an idiot he was. no wonder you left and didn’t even bother to come back to get your things. you left everything behind, all your clothes that still smelled of the lavender detergent you used to buy, your makeup haphazardly thrown into one of the bathroom drawers, the cooking books you always bought “for inspiration” but never, ever actually opened… and the yellow bucket hat you got from seungcheol for the first birthday you spent together. seungcheol had left everything where it was, a tiny part of him hoping you two would work this out somehow. but weeks went by with no word from you, and when he had tried reaching you, he came to the grave conclusion that you had blocked him on all platforms, cut him off from your life like a dead limb. back then he thought he deserved it. he still does.

“i’m sorry, hyung. i really am,” mingyu shakes seungcheol from his reverie, reaching a hand to pet his shoulder. a beat passes between them. “have you tried… calling her again since?”

“no. i don’t know what good it would do,” seungcheol sighs. “even if she answered, i doubt all the apologies i could offer would fix anything. i said some pretty fucked up shit.”

“yeah, i know. if you remember, i was there the next day ripping you a new one,” mingyu teases, desperately trying to cheer up his friend somehow. he swears he can see seungcheol’s lips twitch a bit. “but who knows… now that you both had some time to yourselves, you might actually be able to overcome this calmly. and if… if it doesn’t work out in the end, at least you’ll both have some closure.”

closure. that’s a funny word, because seungcheol wants the furthest thing from closure. he wants you back in his bed and your arms around him, he wants your indie artists he’s never heard of playing around the apartment in the morning, he wants your laugh echoing in the halls. he wants you.

he knows that the only way this ending could even be a possibility would be if he actually took mingyu’s advice and called you up, but another part of him is terrified of the other possibility: the one where you pick up and tell him to go to hell and fuck himself and never call you again or show his face around you. so for now, seungcheol opts for a third option: emotional limbo, with a side of trying-to-move-on.

he gets up from the bed and asks mingyu if he could help him straighten out the place. mingyu, bless his sweet heart, of course says yes and gets to work after sending seungcheol to clean himself up. just as he’s about to close the bathroom door, he hears mingyu’s exasperated voice.

“oh, for the love of god, where is that god-awful music coming from?!”

seungcheol can’t remember the last time he laughed so heartily.

the bar you find yourself in is bustling with people, laughter and cheerful conversations filling the space. you’re only half listening to whatever topic your two best friends, yunjin and chaeyoung, are discussing – something about “that bitch” in yunjin’s department at work that’s been giving her a hard time – instead reveling in the pleasant buzz of the champagne you’re nursing.

it had been a while since you were able to enjoy a nice evening with your girls. the past few months had been filled with endless meetings, client-induced headaches and sleepless nights, but thankfully, today you had managed to finally strike a deal for one of the firm’s most important clients (to be read as filthy rich), which you had been working towards all these months. naturally, upon hearing the news, chaeyoung and yunjin had begged you to join them at a bar in the city, “to celebrate your newfound freedom.”

you splurged on a bottle of champagne for the three of you and decided that tonight, you were going to have fun. you were going to relax, enjoy some drink, and catch up with your friends who you hadn’t seen in weeks.

and you will not, under any circumstances, bring up seungcheol.

you like to believe that in the last two months you had gotten better at shutting out any thought of your ex-boyfriend. in the days – more like weeks, if you were to ask chaeyoung and yunjin – following the ugly breakup, you were quite the literal mess. finding yourself alone and with nowhere to go, considering you had left the apartment you shared with seungcheol with nothing but your work stuff (how on-brand for you), it wasn’t surprising that your mental and emotional health had taken a massive hit. thankfully, at the insistence of yunjin, you agreed to crash at her place while you put yourself back together and took time off from work – something you had never done before.

to the surprise of your friends, it only took you two weeks to go back to work and start looking for your own place. two weeks after that, you were moving into a new apartment and claimed that you were feeling much better since the breakup. or at least starting to. chaeyoung and yunjin didn’t want to argue with you on this – even thought they 100% believed the front you were putting up was a load of crap – but in the end, they didn’t even have to, because the first time you went out with them again since the breakup, you had your first meltdown.

but was it really your fault that the man sitting two seats down the bar from you had ordered whiskey neat, just like seungcheol always used to? and was it really your fault that he was wearing a maroon leather jacket similar to the one seungcheol always used to wear in the fall, which you absolutely adored?

could they really blame you for bursting into tears right then and there and wailing about how much of a jerk seungcheol was for never understanding your dedication to your work? how much of a hypocrite he was for expecting you to just dip from the office when he suddenly had some free time, when he had never done so for you?

that night, chaeyoung and yunjin quite literally dragged you back to chaeyoung’s place and held you while you cried yourself to sleep, and in the morning, when you had embarrassingly admitted that “no, you weren’t really doing fine,” they held you again and offered soft-spoken words of support, opting to keep the classic we told you so in their thoughts.

four months passed since that incident and now, you could confidently say that you were truly feeling better. you weren’t quite over seungcheol per se; there were nights when you still thought about the smell of vanilla that filled the room whenever he was fresh out of a shower, the way he always got so giggly when you brought home a tray of cherries… yeah, you still found yourself missing him terribly sometimes. but the more time passed, you realized that seungcheol hadn’t tried reaching you at all in the months since the breakup, and so you thought he might be moving on as well.

it is true you had blocked him on all social platforms for weeks after you stormed out of your place. but on a particularly bad day, when all you did was cry and cry and cry after him, the thought of calling him up and asking him to go back to how things were crossed your mind, and you unblocked his number. unfortunately, your pride had set itself in your way, convincing you that it was seungcheol that needed to make the first step, considering he was the one who quite literally cornered you into a fight. so you didn’t call and instead prayed to whatever forces exist in the universe, that seungcheol would try your number again.

he never did.

“soooo, cheers to the lady of the hour! finally free from the clutches of corporate law!” yunjin cheered, clinking her glass against yours and knocking you out of your reverie.

damn it, seungcheol, i said i would not think of you tonight!

“yes, cheers!” chaeyoung joined in. “how do you feel? are you going to get a big ass bonus for the amount of time you put into this asshole?”

chaeyoung was probably right, you probably did deserve a huge ass bonus for the deal you pulled for the client you were handling. when you were in law school, you had never imagined yourself working for sleazy, corporate pigs who behaved like none of their actions would bite them in the ass eventually, and expecting others – like yourself – to clean up after them. but, as your boss grimly explained to you the day you had complained about your client, everybody has to start somewhere. “and junior partners don’t get to choose cases, sweetheart.”

life at the firm wasn’t always terrible. you were lucky enough to be part of an amazing team, and the firm worked with plenty of influential and big personalities, so you almost never had to worry about your income. but sometimes, some of the people you were asked to represent brought you to the brink of just quitting your job altogether.

“i just feel relieved,” you say. “if i had to hear the incessant whining and nagging of that idiot for one more day, i might have gone insane!”

“well, thank god you’re a stellar lawyer and managed to get rid of him,” yunjin teases, taking a sip of her drink. “do you already have anything else lined up?”

“god, no! i have a few days off just to take care of paperwork, maybe help out some of my colleagues around the office… but nothing big for now, thankfully.”

“oh, that’s amazing! which reminds me, this means you can actually join us on that weekend spa trip we were talking about last week,” chaeyoung happily suggests, as she’s already pulling up the website of the spa retreat.

“i guess a spa day would be nice,” you say, looking over at chaeyoung’s phone. you feel your body already going lax at the thought of a hot stone massage.

“oh, that would be so nice!” yunjin pouts. “we haven’t gone on a girls trip in so long! i miss going away, just the three of us… do you guys remember that trip we took to croatia two years ago? that was the best one we ever did, i swear!”

while chaeyoung joins yunjin in reminiscing about all the trips the three of you took over the years, you feel your phone buzzing in the pocket of your dress paints. pulling it out, you see an email notification…

“oh, no…” your voice trails off, reading over the email you had just received.

“what? what’s the matter?” yunjin asks, her conversation with chaeyoung coming to a halt.

“my boss just emailed me. he wants me in the office tomorrow morning. some big case that just came in,” you explain, already feeling a headache coming in.

“but tomorrow’s saturday,” chaeyoung frowns.

“i know… i know.”

when monday rolls around, seungcheol really wished that he had died before mingyu had found him the week before.

the day started normal enough. he woke up at 5 a.m. and took kkuma for a walk in the park near his apartment building, just like every morning. by 8 a.m., he was already set up in his studio inside the PLEDIS building, ready to work on the tracks he was supposed to finish mixing by the end of the week. seungcheol liked the buzz of the label, people from all different departments running around trying to stay on their schedules; it motivated him to also do his part diligently, and reminded him that he was extremely lucky to be doing one of the things he loves most: music.

seungcheol should’ve guessed something was up today the moment the clock struck 11 and jihoon, the other in-house producer of PLEDIS, and one of his oldest friends, hadn’t come by his studio. he and jihoon had known each other since their college days, having met in an audio engineering class they apparently shared, and had been friends for 8 years now. during their last year of college, they were recruited by a record label that was just starting out (which became the PLEDIS of today), and despite all warnings from their families, they decided to take a leap of faith together and join the company. it all worked out for the better, it turned out, as PLEDIS only grew and soon became a household name in the music industry.

as the only producers that have stuck around PLEDIS since the beginning, they developed several… traditions, or rituals over the years, one of which was jihoon’s 11 a.m. coffee run, which they’d spend sharing ideas and notes over each other’s work, and, if jihoon was in a particularly good mood, engage in some office gossip (not that either of them would ever admit it). today, however, jihoon is a no-show and seungcheol can’t help but wonder what his friend is up to.

when he shoots jihoon a quick text, asking if he’s alright, his friend only replies with a “just busy,” and tells seungcheol not to wait up for him at lunch, as he’ll probably be stuck in the studio all day. this doesn’t surprise him that much, seeing as jihoon might be an even bigger workaholic than he is, but he still can’t shake the feeling that something must be up with his friend. he decides that instead of going out for lunch, he’s gonna pick up some takeout and join jihoon in his studio. he wouldn’t be able to rest easy knowing his friend will go a day without eating anything.

once lunch hours begin, seungcheol takes a quick walk two blocks down the street to the restaurant mingyu works in, who’s already waiting for him with the food seungcheol had requested for him and jihoon. on his way back to PLEDIS, he texts jihoon again, just to make sure he’s still in the studio, but there’s no answer, and now seungcheol is seriously starting to get worried. he jogs the rest of the way until he’s back inside the building, and takes the elevator to the 6th floor where jihoon’s studio is stationed.

walking up to the door that reads UNIVERSE FACTORY, he stops in his tracks when he hears more than one voice from the other side of the door. he easily recognizes jihoon’s voice, but the other voices – two other men and a woman – are harder to make out. except… except the woman’s voice is eerily familiar, and without a second thought, seungcheol grips the handle and swings the door open, four pairs of eyes whipping in his direction.

his eyes land on jihoon, who looks like he wishes he was anywhere else in that moment, and then scan the rest of room, recognizing mr. han, their CEO, and… you. it’s you.

seungcheol feels like he’s going to faint. mr. han does not look the least bit happy about seungcheol’s intrusion, and he really wishes the man would slap him just so he can know for sure if he’s dreaming. if you’re surprised to see seungcheol, your face shows no sign of it, and seungcheol can’t help but stare at you. you look so beautiful, so put together; your make-up is soft, almost unnoticeable, your hair pushed behind your ears, and you’re wearing a dark green suit… oh, how he loved you in green.

you were the picture of grace and professionalism and he was… not. he really wishes he hadn’t come to the studio in sweatpants right now.

“mr. choi, what a… surprise,” mr. han exclaims, standing up from his seat, you and the other man – who seungcheol has no idea who he is, but he knows he doesn’t like the way he’s standing so close to you – following suit. “i didn’t know mr. lee was expecting you,” mr. han continues, glancing towards jihoon, who turned red as a tomato.

“i wasn’t, actually,” jihoon squeaks, avoiding both seungcheol and mr. han’s gazes.

“i apologize, i was… i was just bringing jihoon some lunch. i didn’t know there was… a meeting happening,” seungcheol says, looking towards you, and he’s almost thrown back by the way you’re just… staring directly at him.

mr. han sighs, but remembering the situation, he quickly puts on a polite smile as he turns towards you and the other man. “mr. choi is one of our other in-house producers. mr. choi, this is mr. jeon and miss L/N. they’re helping us with some… legal matters.”

so that’s why you were here. and who the other guy was. but what legal matters? and why was jihoon involved? and why didn’t he tell seungcheol?!

before seungcheol can ask more questions, mr. han gestures towards the door he came through and says “now, if you don’t mind, you can come back in a few minutes, mr. choi. we’ll be done soon.”

soon. soon, his ass!

seungcheol had been pacing the hallway outside jihoon’s studio for the past 20 minutes (he checked, he wasn’t exaggerating!), trying very hard not to eavesdrop through the door, and thinking of every possible reason why jihoon would need legal help and why you would be here.

jihoon was definitely in some kind of trouble. for the CEO to be involved as well, it for sure must be something that could affect the whole label. seungcheol just can’t understand why jihoon wouldn’t tell him if he had any kind of problem. they were colleagues, but most importantly, they were friends. he would’ve dropped everything to come to his aid.

now, when it comes to you… seungcheol knows you’re a lawyer, obviously he does. he met you when you were halfway through law school, and he was there for every failed and aced exam, for your graduation (he was so proud of you that day, it was the first time you’d ever seen him cry), for every measly job you had before finally securing the one you currently held at one of the top firms in the city. he also knows you’re a damn good lawyer, seeing how hard you work and how dedicated you are. he supposes it’s not surprising you were chosen to represent jihoon in whatever mess he got himself in.

he feels bad now that he remembers how he held these things above your head during your last fight. how you were working late so often, how you never asked him to join you at office parties, despite how eager you always were to go out with your coworkers for drinks, how you always asked him to wait for you outside the office building, as if you didn’t want people to know you had a partner...

he knows that both of you were to blame for how things went down between you, but since he started the argument in the first place, he thinks he could’ve brought all this up in a better way, at a better time.

his thoughts are interrupted when the door to jihoon’s studio opens again, and he finds himself regretting waiting in the hallway because now he has to face you again and he’s not ready and he doesn’t know what to say and he still looks like a hobo and –

“mr. choi!”

he looks up to see who he imagines is your colleague – mr. jeon – step towards him, as you and mr. han step out after him, discussing something. you glance once towards seungcheol before turning back to the conversation, and seungcheol feels his heart clench.

“mr. jeon, i’m sorry once again for interrupting your meeting,” seungcheol says, extending his hand to shake mr. jeon’s.

“don’t worry, no harm done at all. i’m actually glad you stuck around, because i had something to ask you. seeing as you and mr. lee are close, would you be available for a short talk with us, sometime in the next days? we’ll have to build a strong case for mr. lee and, well, some insight from his colleagues would be very helpful,” mr. jeon explains, fixing the thin-rimmed glasses perched on his nose.

seungcheol is taken aback by the man’s soft tone. his sharp eyes and cold look on his face made him look pretty intimidating, but his voice is the complete opposite, putting seungcheol weirdly at ease.

“o-of course, anything for jihoon,” seungcheol quickly replies. “can i ask, though, what exactly does he need help with?”

“plagiarism.”

“PLAGIARISM?!”

“you’re being sued. for plagiarism.”

“yes.”

“and you just found out last friday.”

“yes.”

“last friday when we all went out for barbeque and you didn’t even think to mention it? not even once?!”

“will you stop pacing and sit down? you’re making me even more nervous than i already am,” jihoon sighs, dropping his head in his hands.

seungcheol sighs as well, muttering a sorry, and sits down on the couch opposite jihoon’s chair.

jihoon continues. “i didn’t mention anything because i didn’t want to piss on everyone’s good mood. it was joshua’s birthday… besides, i didn’t know all the details of the situation at that point. i thought it was another baseless accusation, you know? but they’re serious about it. they wanna take me to court.”

“what? that’s insane,” seungcheol says. “i feel weird even asking, but did you even plagiarize?”

“no! of course not! i don’t even know the people!” jihoon exclaims, flopping down on the couch next to seungcheol. he lets out a long groan. “this is just what i needed.”

seungcheol pats his friend’s back, thinking of some encouraging words. jihoon was the most talented and creative guy he knew. to think that someone would accuse him of using somebody else’s work was a concept seungcheol couldn’t even entertain.

“don’t worry. that jeon guy looks like he’s already got a game plan.”

“and Y/N,” jihoon says.

silence falls around the two of them, until jihoon stirs from the couch, sitting up to look at seungcheol.

“are we just not going to acknowledge her or what?”

“no! that’s not what i…” seungcheol sighs, hanging his head. “i just wasn’t expecting to see her. i don’t know how to feel.”

“that’s understandable. you guys haven’t seen each other in a while, right?”

seungcheol shakes his head. “did she… did she say anything to you?”

“oh, no. she was super professional, went straight to business. but…” jihoon trails off, debating whether he should say what he was thinking.

“but? but what?!” seungcheol grabs jihoon’s shoulders, shaking him a little.

“but i think she was just as rattled to see you as you were. her hand kept shaking while she was writing, after you left. i guess she was just better at hiding her surprise,” jihoon continues. “now let go of me, you animal!”

seungcheol sighs. could it be that you were just as much of a mess inside as he was? the hopeful part of him thinks you might have thought of him all these months, just as he thought of you. the other part of him thinks your hand might as well just have been shaking from anger.

“you know, this might be a good thing,” jihoon says, getting up and sitting back in front of his computer.

“what, you getting sued and her being around?”

“yeah. maybe this way you’ll finally grow some balls, put your pride aside, and actually fix things,” jihoon deadpans, and seungcheol knows the conversation is over.

yeah. easier said than done.

[a-romantics-guide-to-life]

 *ੈ✩ 𝓭𝓪𝓷𝓬𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝔀𝓲𝓽𝓱 𝓫𝓲𝓵𝓵𝔂 ˖*°࿐

i feel so bad for the drought ya'll and i have a few blurbs i have been writing in between classes so yea, here ya go!

It was on mornings and moments with you like these that Billy truly felt at peace when the rest of his world was war.

You, of course, were at the center of that peace.

His life had been a whirlwind of grief and death, anger and sadness, yet also love and kindness. You were at the eye of the hurricane Billy called his life. Calm, peaceful, loving, adoring, ethereal, there were many words Billy could use to describe you yet he could never find the voice to say them all.

Of course, he found solace in expressing his devotion to you through song.

You two had quite an exhausting day (and evening). Billy had been with the boys the entire day, herding cattle and farming while you had been cleaning the house up, cooking, and washing clothes. As soon as Billy had gotten home that night, he had kicked his boots off, hanging his hat on one of the chairs as he rushed into your bedroom where he knew you would be mending his torn blouses. 

You had perked up when you heard the door open. Billy had left early that morning, getting to work as soon as the sun had risen, leaving your bed half-empty. He worked on the farm tirelessly, only stopping for lunch and water. In truth, the only reason he had started working was to start saving up for a ring.

It was Billy’s every intention to marry you. Reality was he wanted everything with you, marriage, kids, a whole farm of animals, love, sex, really anything you’d give him, he’d take. You had loved his right, as he said, you really knew him too. You knew when he was angry all he needed was a hug, when he was sad? A kiss on the forehead. You showed him day after day that you loved him, and that you’d do anything for him. Billy had decided that he too would do anything for you. 

Which is why he worked so hard so you’d never have to see a grueling day working yourself to death.

Of course, it usually meant that he got home late. At first, it was hard getting used to Billy getting home at nearly an hour before midnight. He’d stumble in, stomach growling, begging for sustenance. Before, you always left food for him in the kitchen, usually going to sleep. He’d come home and eat a bit of food, he was usually too sleepy to eat too much, and collapse in bed with you.

You’d stir at the movement and turn to face him, wrapping your arms around his neck as he snuggled his face against your neck, breathing you in. You’d ask about his day gingerly twirling his hair in between your fingers as he wrapped his polar bear arms around you, liking you impossibly closer. 

Nowadays of course, you’d wait to eat with him, and ask him about his day. You’d get ready for bed with him before collapsing in eachothers arms, dreaming sweet dreams of each other together.

It was on mornings like those that you felt all the love and adoration Billy felt for you. It was also when you felt most at peace with your life, like nothing else mattered.

Of course, when you woke up after a very exciting night with Billy, it was expected that, as the day before, he would leave before you even started to stir awake. 

Yet as soon as you came to, the smell of something warm and sweet hit your nose. It was comforting and unexpected. At first you panicked, hurriedly throwing the covers off of your form, feet stomping on the wooden floors of your little home as you rushed to the kitchen. But as soon as you heard the soft humming of a deep voice you calmed, your heart still beat as you listened in.

You slowly tiptoed to the kitchen, carefully listening in on the hums. As you got closer and closer, they grew louder and louder. Slowly, you heard the deep baritone singing.

“I LOOVE YOU BABBY, and if its quite alright i need yoouuu babbbby too on these lonelyyy nightss!”

You laughed as you finally walked into the kitchen. Plates were on the table all white and bright, the room smelled heavenly of the pancakes Billy was cooking on the stove. All sorts of fruits were lined up on the island as Billy carefully flipped another pancake over, looking at you right after.

He ran to you, picking you up, the sound of giggles and laughter filling the air as he swung you around, your toes barely grazing the floor as he spun you.

Billy finally set you down, his hands perching onto your hips as your arms found their way to his neck. You twirled your fingers through his messy chestnut hair.

You started to hum along with him as you two started to sway gently around the kitchen. Every so often, Billy would peck at your lips gently before leaving you to flip or put another pancake. 

You’d pout, adorably pulling your bottom lip out whenever Billy turned to the stove. When he’d come back, he’d smile that bright smile that made you light up inside before kissing your head gently and humming a slow tune again.

It was in moments like those that you two truly fell in love deeper and deeper, sinking away into time, only the hums of love songs echoing into history forevermore.

[egirling]

one direction.

i think i’m still grieving what happened; ever since liam has passed there’s not been a single day where i haven’t thought about the 5 boys that overtook my life when i was 12. i was a diehard fan, still am. if it wasn’t for them; i wouldn’t of met my closest friend. they had such an impact on my life and i genuinely cannot process what happened.

i never thought that i would be this sad at a member passing; but i also think that i never ever thought to fully understand that it’ll happen one day. i handle death well but for some reason this death has struck me.

as a 24 year old, i feel for the 12 year old girl who started liking them. who had her walls covered in posters, wrote fanfiction, ran a 1D fan page on facebook and twitter, the one who cried when zayn left and when they all unfortunately split away from the band. i remember the little girl who would get salty when people typed ‘1d’ instead of of ‘1D’, the girl who stayed up late to watch songs be released, the girl who truly thought these 5 guys were the best thing to happen to her.

i remember listening to up all night and getting sad when stole my heart came on; because i knew the album was ending. but luckily i was fortune enough to own the physical album so i could just rewind it. i did that for years since i never owned another album on cd.

i also feel for that little girl; i remember being sad when i saw people attending 1D concerts knowing i never got the opportunity to as a child. as an adult; sure but… a reunion is unspoken for currently. i get sad when i realize that i’ll never see 5/5 live, but i saw a tiktok comment saying that i at least experienced the fandom at its prime and that i lived during it, and that’s enough for me to feel a connection to them. it makes me feel better.

i know that death is natural and happens to everyone, but i was not expecting to handle the loss of someone i worshiped as a child. i know he’s just a celebrity, would never know i existed and all of that but genuinely this has struck me in a way i never expected. it’s like part of my childhood has been torn away from me; like my younger self is heartbroken by liam and what happened. (maybe this has to do with the trauma ive dealt with in my life? but that’s something i gotta discuss with my psychiatrist.)

1D and all the members will always have a spot in my heart and soul for the chapter of my life that they were in, i’m genuinely so grateful for them in multiple ways. i remember when little things came out and that was in my peak of my self harming, and hearing them sing about things i hated about myself struck me when i was younger. obviously, when i was a child it felt more personal compared to being an adult, but it still helped. i don’t think i self harmed for awhile after that song.

i love the fact that i got to experience them as a band, and the fact that im living in a life with their solo careers as well. i’m ever so proud of them and how they’ve grown.

as for liam, i do miss him as weird as it might be. i never knew him, never would but he was … almost a positive influence on me and my younger self. i didn’t have much direction growing up, but i knew listening to their songs or watching videos of them that i would feel content. an escape maybe.

i don’t know. i can’t sleep and it’s almost midnight and i needed to get this off my chest. i think i just needed to vent and say my peace and words to accept what’s happened.

this blog started as a 1D blog 💀

i know there’s millions of fans who are deeply affected by this as well, and if anyone even reads this i just want you to know your feelings and thoughts are completely valid, grief affects everyone differently. he was a huge part of life for MANY people out there. take care of yourself. listen to some songs and cry; everything will be okay.

(i don’t think i can do this 4 more times)

there’s a day i’ll be older than him and that’s weird… i don’t like that thought. it was never supposed to be that.

i would like to believe that liam is content wherever he is right now.

all the love, sarah / egirling

[emlovesstates]

Gov X New York needs more love

So I'm gonna give it some with some incorrect quotes he he he

New York : I committed all 7 deadly sins in 30 minutes.

Gov: Wow, I've gotta hear this.

New York : I was angry and envious of my neighbor so I lazily seduced his wife and ate all his groceries and didn't share.

Gov: You forgot pride.

New York : No, I'm pretty proud of this.

----------

Gov: I’m doing what I can to jog your memory.

New York : It’s jogging, I guess. Its tiddies are jiggling a little.

Gov: Nice.

-----

Gov: It doesn’t have a bone.

New York : Then why is it called a boner?

Gov: I’m in love with you.

New York : We called off the prank war last night at midnight, dork.

Gov: I know.

New York : Ah. Okay. Um. Cool. Neat. Very cool. Cool. Cool. Coolcoolcool-

*At a speed dating event*

Gov: Oh wow, people are really shallow.

New York : Consider it a background check. For example: Do you have a death certificate?

Gov: *Checks their pulse* Sorry, not yet.

New York : Good, I'm not fucking a ghost again.

Gov: Hey, wanna take a shower with me?

New York : I have a gun in that nightstand beside the bed. If I ever say no to that question, I want you to take it out and shot me because I’ve obviously gone crazy.

Gov: I want you back...

New York : 3 words, 8 letters. Say it, and I'm yours.

Gov: I got food?

New York : ...you know me so well.

Gov: It’s quick, it’s easy, and it’s free: pouring river water in your socks!

New York : Why would I do that?

Gov: It’s quick, it’s easy, and it’s free!

Gov: I truly go into housewife mode when I'm someone's soulmate- like, I'll make you pancakes and bacon every morning.

New York : This is a lie.

New York : I'm literally dating them. This is a lie.

New York : THEY DON'T EVEN KNOW HOW TO COOK A PANCAKE, WHAT IS THIS.

Gov: Do you love me?

New York : We’re literally married.

Gov: Yeah, but as friends or—(this gives off the same energy from yesterday's video)

New York : Did you win? Or just not die?

New York : Either way, hooray.

Gov: ...Is "no" a valid answer?

New York : The hooray is redacted and you frighten me.

New York : English is CRAZY. Oregano is both a spaghetti leaf topping and a form of paper art!

Gov: What is this "paper art" you speak of?

New York : That shit where you make cranes and stuff out of folded paper!

Gov: ... New York .

Gov: Our relationship is strictly professional.

New York , sitting on Gov’s lap: Absolutely. Only on business.

New York : So I can either do something dumb that could very well get me injured or I can listen to Gov and not do the thing,

New York : Well there’s a clear right answer here.

New York : *proceeds to throw five packs of mentos into a barrel full of diet coke*

New York : I owe you one.

Gov: That’s ok. You can just date me and we’ll call it even.

New York : I feel like doing something stupid.

Gov: I’m stupid, do me.

New York : Do you want to explain the text you sent me last night?

Gov: It was autocorrect.

New York : Autocorrect wrote "You're so hot. Please step on me."?

Gov: Yes.

Gov: *Locks New York in the car.* Act like a child, get treated like a child.

New York : What? Isn't it illegal to leave a child locked in a car?

England: I have your boyfriend

New York : What? I don't have a boyfriend...

England: Then who just called me a lowlife bitch and spit in my face?

New York : Oh my god, you have Gov

Gov: You use humor to deflect your trauma.

New York : Awww, thanks-

Gov: That’s not a good thing.

New York : All I’m hearing is that you think I’m funny.

Gov: I want to be with you for the rest of my life.

New York : Damn, that sounds like a marriage proposal.

Gov, getting down on one knee: That's 'cause it is.

[chemicallywrit]

Happy Audio Drama Sunday! What a week! Let's talk about audio drama!

⏰ Nine To Midnight has its own feed now, which I appreciate, as a listener to many of the involved pods, because I didn't get like six iterations of the show in my feed. I did have to go seek it out though, but I'm so glad I did. These stories!!! These STORIES. The second episode in particular stuck out, just banger after banger. Also, what's up David Ault! Always fun to watch David Ault flex.

😈 Dungeons and Daddies this week was on the short side, but woof. I. Love. The Stamplers. I love them. I love you Ron Stampler and Terry Jr. Stampler and Scary Terri Marlowe Stampler. They are ridiculous and excellent. Honestly though, their wonderful energy was just the prelude to the truly heartbreaking Close clan. These boys are so deep in denial they ought to be worried about the bends. Yikes. I'm really looking forward to watching them try to save hell and make up for lost time.

⚡️ Electromancy! Of COURSE it's all happening at the dance. What kind of school story would this be if everything wasn't going to go down at the dance? Like with all fantasy about young people, I love the mixture of extremely high stakes (colonialism and revolution) and extremely low stakes (but what am I going to WEAR). I can't wait for part two. @electromancypodcast

👟 Keep It Steady!!! New episode of Keep It Steady! Our teenage burnout is faced with the mortifying ordeal of having real friends who love him, which is a wild thing for a teen to have to accept when he has zero self esteem. And then on top of everything, he gets concussed! My boy! @keepitsteadypod

⚖️ The Adventure Zone Imbalance has appeared on the feed, which is a relief to me, a person who hates listening to things on youtube. And Davenport is there! My main man! If y'all need to know anything about me, it's that I love Davenport. I missed these guys so much.

🚀 Travelling Light is a new show from @monstrousproductions, and I am THRILLED. I love a travelogue, I love a character with ties to religion, I love a warm scifi show, I love a recipe. I know from their tumblr that the writer and narrator of this show is Quaker, which is a tradition I'm not very familiar with, so I'm interested to see how that perspective influences this story. It's just so NICE.

👻 I started listening to Magenta Presents this week, in an effort to listen to everything Lindsay Sharman has ever done, and this is spooky. Beth Eyre is always a treat to listen to, and Lucy Roslyn, whose work I am not familiar with, is also a fantastic actor. They have great chemistry. I love a true ghost story, and I love a protagonist who feels like she's slowly losing her mind. @longcatmedia

🪓 I've finally arrived at the bit of Woe.Begone where other actors are showing up, and surprise! It's David Ault again! He's everywhere! I haven't interacted with fans of this show, so I had no idea, and apparently fans hate his character. To be fair, I did too, but now David's here doing the voice, and it's so much WORSE. Well done, David.

🍕 I finished s1 of Gastronaut and started s2, and I find myself enamored with this guy, coming from a place of relative privilege, tearing his preconceptions apart with a fork and a knife. The writing is lush, the story is fascinating, and it really hits the spot for me of "moody thoughtful nonfiction." I love it so much. I can't believe there are only two seasons. How dare they. (I trust them though.)

🧛🏻‍♀️ Re: Dracula is done, and we have announced Carmilla! My role in Carmilla will be less than it was for Drac, but I'm still very excited to get in on making this story. It's going to be amazing.

🧟‍♂️ The Dead's second episode has appeared, and I am continually impressed with the people I work with. What a death scene from Marquis Moore! What good acting from Brandon Nguyen! They are a joy to direct.

As for me, I'm about to start getting Inn Between ready to post! Are you hype? I'm hype. If you like what I do and want to give me a hand, please check out my ko-fi!

See you next week!

[gglitchshit]

I did it on instagram and I'll do it here too because it's fun and I encourage you to do the same. 😎👍

My fave music discoveries of 2024!

Not necessarily new artists, just me being a slowpoke. I will share the artist, the genre(s), write a bit about them and share a highlight album.

(If anytime I mention "this year" I'm talking about 2024, I just waited till last minute to post this because hey, what if 5 minutes before midnight I discover someone new, you know... spoiler: I didn't though hahah)

In order of discovery as much as I remember, let's GO.

1. Gelka

(downtempo, chillout, electronic)

I love Hungarian music that doesn't have any Hungarian in it. I heard them on the radio and was an instant fave. Listened to them a lot when playing Stardew Valley and when drawing and in... general. Perfect background music that is actually good.

Can't highlight any album mostly because I was listening to their entire discography on loop so I guess uh. Just any of them. Yeag.

2. Agalloch

(atmospheric black/doom/folk metal, post-rock/metal)

The beginning of the year feels like an eternity ago so I'm not sure how I came across them but man I'm glad I did. I'm not good with words but their atmosphere just moves my heart strings in ways unspeakable. The end of Hawthorne Passage never fails to make me tear up.

Highlight album: The Mantle. The album ever. Essential. Beloved.

Runner up: Ashes Against the Grain

3. Alcest

(post-black metal, blackgaze/shoegaze)

Came across them around the same time as Agalloch and ougghhhhhh yeag. I'm normal about them (no). First time I've ever cried to music because of how beautiful it is. Yeah. Yeah that's it.

Highlight album: Les Chants de l'Aurore - their newest album is truly one of if not their best but I also love the two previous ones as well.

4. Kamelot

(power metal)

I had Black Halo saved to listen later and I finally got around to it and damn. What an album. Eventually checked other albums too and confirmed that yep, Kamelot is epic.

So yeah, highlight album: The Black Halo

5. Batushka

(black metal)

Secondhand rec from a mutual (hi ardate ty~) when I saw their imagery and heard that they combined lithurgic chants with black metal... Neuron activation!!!! This is what I wanted from Ghost back in 2018 from their looks but didn't deserve lol. I love that they're ambiguous and vague about their stance on their religious themes. Are they satanic? Are they not? ~Who knows.~ From what I've heard they're definitely blasphemous and that's sexy~

Highlight album: Litourgiya god damn album of the century

6. Children of Bodom

(melodic death metal)

I'm VERY late to check them out I know (I'm still a baby metalhead after all) and I don't even remember what brought me to them but I've been doing nothing but listening to them for a month. Or maybe two at this point. My first song of the year 2025 was Hate Me becuase I had it on loop. I'm also learning Silent Night Bodom Night on guitar because I'm normal. RIP Alexi I love you. Highlight album: It's very hard to check out full albums because each song is so good I gotta loop it for 7 business days, so I can only say Follow the Reaper for now!

-

Bonus: rediscoveries

1. Avatar

(uhh good luck I think they're melodic death metal and alternative metal? yes metal)

First came across them from Ghost Tumblr community back in the day and knew one (1) song and recognized Johannes anywhere but that's it. But then I saw them live and it flipped a switch in me. New obsession!!! They took over my brain for a few months and became top 2 artist in my wrapped oops (top 1 in youtube recap hehe). Ngl I even started learning swedish because of them. Chat no please don't laugh at me-

Highlight album: can't even choose one damn but Hail the Apocalypse is my most listened one.

2. Ensiferum

(folk metal)

Decided to check out more of them since I only knew one song here too and!!!! Hello??? Why did I sleep on them for so long. Learnt Token of Time entirely on guitar and also started learning Windrider but put it on hold because it's out of my league a tiny bit currently fhsfgshd.

Highlight album: Ensiferum (2001) beloved one of my fav albums ever actually, it's so good.

3. Moonsorrow

(folk metal, black metal)

Listened to them a bit last year but really listened more this year so I count then as rediscovery. Almost went to see them live too but chickened out. :( I absolutely love folk and black metal together, so it was destined I'd fall in love with them eventually.

Highlight album: Jumalten Aika because it has my fav song on it and it was the 666th album I've listened to, like of all time. ^_^

4. Windir

(black metal)

This is more like an album rediscovery than anything but 1184 is still so good what the hell. It is everything I want in black metal. I need to check out the other albums too sometime soon...

[lord-of-the-muses]

Nightly Entanglements

Pairings : Wednesday Addams x Enid Sinclair x Female Reader (who is an Infp-t)

A/N : Its a little bit of a long tale.

The length of a tale is of little consequence when the content is rich with intrigue and the macabre. For a good story must be allowed to unfurl, like the vines that climb up the walls of a forgotten manor, their tendrils reaching out for the light that has long since been extinguished. And so it is with this tale, dear reader, that we invite you to delve deeper into the shadowy recesses of our characters' lives, to uncover the secrets that they hold close to their chests, and to explore the depths of their desires, no matter how twisted or unconventional they may be. For in this world of darkness and mystery, there is no such thing as normal, and the only way to truly find oneself is to embrace the darkness that lurks within.

Wednesday and Enid's love for one another was delightful, but it wasn't always easy. Wednesday was a macabre lady, and her interests and hobbies were sometimes a little too intense for Enid. But Enid still adored Wednesday, even if she didn't always understand her.

Wednesday once surprised Enid by walking her to a cemetery at midnight. Enid was nervous, but Wednesday's calm demeanour put her at ease.

As they walked among the gravestones, Wednesday explained her fascination with death and the afterlife. Enid listened intently, even if some of the things Wednesday said made her shiver.

But even though she was a little scared, Enid loved seeing this side of Wednesday. She loved how passionate and knowledgeable she was about things that most people found macabre or unsettling. It was just another layer to the mysterious woman she loved.

And even though Enid sometimes struggled with the darker side of Wednesday's personality, she always found ways to show her love. She would leave little notes and drawings for Wednesday, or surprise her with a gift that she knew would make her smile.

In return, Wednesday showed her love in her own way. She would take Enid on long walks in the woods, showing her the beauty in the darkness. She would share her knowledge of all things spooky, and even introduce Enid to her family - who were just as eccentric as she was.

Enid, for her part, tried her best to embrace Wednesday's darker side. She would jump at the chance to explore a creepy abandoned building with her, even if it made her heart race. And while she may not have been as knowledgeable about death and the afterlife as Wednesday was, she loved learning from her and exploring this new side of herself.

"You know, I used to be afraid of places like this," Enid said, looking around nervously. "But now... I don't know, there's something thrilling about it."

Wednesday turned to look at her, a small smile playing at the corners of her lips. "I knew you had it in you, Enid," she said, her voice low and velvety.

Enid shivered, partly from the chill in the air and partly from the intensity of Wednesday's gaze. "I guess you bring out the dark side in me," she said, grinning.

Wednesday chuckled. "I suppose I do have a certain... allure," she said, leaning in closer to Enid.

Enid could feel her heart racing as Wednesday's breath ghosted over her cheek. "You know," she said, her voice barely above a whisper, "I may not be as knowledgeable about death and the afterlife as you are, but I love learning from you. Exploring this new side of myself with you... it's like nothing else."

Wednesday's eyes darkened, and Enid could tell she was pleased. "I'm glad to hear it," she said, her fingers trailing lightly over Enid's arm. "You know, I could teach you so much more. If you're willing to take the risk, that is."

Enid felt a thrill of fear and excitement course through her. She knew Wednesday was talking about something darker, something more dangerous than just exploring abandoned buildings. But she also knew that she trusted Wednesday, that she was willing to follow her into the shadows.

"Whatever it is, I'm in," she said, taking Wednesday's hand in hers.

Wednesday squeezed her hand, and Enid could feel the power thrumming through her. "Good," she said, a wicked gleam in her eye. "I think you'll find that the dark side can be... quite enjoyable."

Wednesday and Enid froze when they heard the sound of shoveling coming from the nearby cemetery. They exchanged a look, both curious and a little bit apprehensive.

"Should we investigate?" Enid asked, her eyes flicking towards the graves.

Wednesday nodded, her own eyes glinting with excitement. "Let's see what we have here," she said, motioning for Enid to follow her.

They made their way quietly through the rows of graves until they spotted Y/N, digging feverishly at a newly dug hole. She was muttering to herself, too focused on her task to notice the two girls watching her from the shadows.

"What do you think she's doing?" Enid whispered, her eyes wide.

Enid stepped on a twig, and it snapped under her foot. The sound echoed through the cemetery, causing Y/N to freeze mid-dig.

"What was that?" Y/N muttered, reaching for the flashlight in her pocket.

Enid cursed silently, realizing what she had done. She glanced over at Wednesday, who was already stepping out of the shadows with a smirk on her face.

"Relax, Y/N," Wednesday drawled, her eyes glinting with amusement. "We're not here to hurt you."

Y/N relaxed slightly when she saw who it was, but she was still on guard. "What are you doing here?" she demanded, holding up the flashlight to illuminate their faces.

"We were just passing through and heard some noise," Enid said quickly, coming up beside Wednesday with a grin on her face. "We were curious, so we came to investigate."

Y/N looked between the two of them, still a bit suspicious. "Investigate what?" she asked, her eyes narrowing.

Enid leaned in conspiratorially, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "We thought maybe you were digging up a body to add to your collection," she said, unable to resist a joke.

Wednesday chuckled at Enid's joke, and Y/N rolled her eyes. "I'm collecting grave dirt," she said, holding up the jar she had been filling.

Enid's eyes widened in surprise. "Grave dirt? What do you need that for?" she asked, genuinely curious.

Y/N hesitated for a moment, but then decided to trust them. "It's for a spell," she said, her voice low. "A protection spell, for myself and my family."

Wednesday's eyes glinted with interest. "What kind of spell?" she asked, moving closer to Y/N.

Y/N shifted uncomfortably, suddenly aware of how close Wednesday was to her. "I'd rather not say," she said, her voice a little bit shaky.

Enid noticed the tension between Wednesday and Y/N, and she grinned mischievously. "Oh, come on, Y/N," she said, nudging Wednesday with her elbow. "I bet Wednesday would love to know all about your dark magic."

Wednesday raised an eyebrow, intrigued by Enid's comment. "Dark magic?" she repeated, turning to Y/N with a sly grin. "I'm all ears."

Y/N looked at them with a mixture of surprise and confusion, unsure of how to react to their sudden appearance. Wednesday, sensing the tension, decided to break the silence.

"Collecting grave dirt, you say? That's quite an interesting hobby," she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

Y/N glared at her, clearly not amused. "It's for my spells," she replied, her tone curt.

"Why?" Wednesday asked, arching a perfectly sculpted eyebrow.

"It's for a spell," Y/N explained, feeling her cheeks heat up at the thought of having to explain her Wiccan practices to the two girls.

"A spell?" Enid echoed, her eyes lighting up with interest. "Do tell."

Y/N hesitated for a moment, unsure if she wanted to share her personal beliefs with the girls, but something in their expressions told her that they were genuinely curious and not judgmental.

It's a protection spell," she finally explained. "I'm trying to protect someone I care about."

Enid and Wednesday shared a look, and Y/N could see the understanding and acceptance in their eyes. It was a feeling she had never experienced before, and it made her feel seen and heard in a way she had never felt before.

"That's really cool," Enid said, a playful smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. "We could use some protection ourselves, with all the creepy stuff we get into."

Wednesday's lips twitched into a smirk as well, and Y/N couldn't help but feel drawn to the macabre beauty of the gothic girl.

"Maybe I could teach you a thing or two about protection spells," Y/N said, feeling a burst of confidence at the thought of sharing her knowledge with these two fascinating girls.

Enid and Wednesday both grinned at her, and Y/N felt a warmth spreading through her chest at the thought of getting to know them better. She still wasn't sure where this flirtation was going, but she was excited to find out.

Enid couldn't resist getting closer to Y/N. She took a step forward and reached out to play with her hair, twirling it around her fingers. "Do you want to come back to our dorm?" Enid asked with a sly smile.

Y/N blushed at the sudden attention from both Enid and Wednesday. She wasn't used to this kind of flirting, but she found herself drawn to their playful energy. "I don't know..." Y/N trailed off, her voice barely above a whisper.

Wednesday stepped closer to Y/N, closing the gap between them. "Oh, come on, Y/N," she purred, her voice low and husky. "We won't bite...unless you want us to."

Enid giggled at Wednesday's flirtatious comment and took another step closer to Y/N. "Yeah, we promise it'll be fun," she said, her voice laced with excitement.

Y/N bit her lip, her heart racing as she considered the invitation. She had always been a bit of a loner, but something about these two girls made her want to take a chance. "Okay," she finally said, a smile creeping across her face.

Wednesday's smirk widened, and she took Y/N's hand in hers. "That's what we like to hear," she said, leading Y/N and Enid towards their dorm room.

Enid and Wednesday couldn't resist teasing Y/N. Enid plopped down on her bed next to Y/N and exclaimed, "So, you're a dreamy artist type, huh? Do you spend all day staring out the window, lost in thought?"

Wednesday chimed in, "And let me guess, you have a diary filled with all your deepest, darkest feelings?"

Y/N blushed, feeling a bit embarrassed by their teasing, but couldn't help but laugh at their antics. "Well, maybe I do have a diary," she said, playing along. "But it's not filled with all my deepest, darkest feelings."

Y/N blushed, feeling a bit embarrassed by their teasing, but couldn't help but laugh at their antics. "Well, maybe I do have a diary," she said, playing along. "But it's not filled with all my deepest, darkest feelings."

Enid raised an eyebrow. "Oh really? What is it filled with then?"

Y/N smiled mischievously. "Mostly sketches of creepy monsters and weird plants. And the occasional angsty poem, of course."

Wednesday let out a low chuckle. "Now that's more like it. I knew there was a dark side to you."

Enid leaned in closer to Y/N, playing with one of her stuffed animals. "So, are you going to show us some of your sketches?"

Y/N hesitated for a moment before nodding, feeling a bit vulnerable but also excited to share her art with them.

As Y/N showed them some of her sketches, Wednesday and Enid watched in awe, impressed by her talent and the unique perspective she brought to her art. They also couldn't help but notice how her eyes would light up whenever she talked about a particular drawing, and they knew they had found a kindred spirit in Y/N.

Enid nudged Wednesday with a sly grin, "Looks like we found ourselves a fellow weirdo."

Wednesday smirked back. "About time. It was getting lonely being the only macabre one around here."

"There's this little cafe on the edge of town that has a beautiful garden in the back. It's perfect for a quiet date."

Wednesday raised an eyebrow. "A date?" she repeated, turning her gaze to Y/N. "Would you be interested in joining us, Y/N?"

Y/N's heart skipped a beat. "M-me?" she stammered, feeling her cheeks flush. "I-I mean, if that's okay with you guys..."

Enid and Wednesday exchanged a knowing smirk. "Of course it's okay," Enid said. "We wouldn't have asked if we didn't want you to come."

Wednesday nodded in agreement. "We're all weirdos here, remember? And besides, I think it'll be fun to have someone else to share our odd interests with."

Y/N couldn't help but smile at their words. It felt like she had finally found a place where she belonged. "Thank you," she said softly. "I'd love to come."

Enid clapped her hands excitedly. "Great! How about we meet up tomorrow afternoon?"

Wednesday nodded. "That works for me. Y/N, does that work for you as well?"

Y/N nodded eagerly. "Yes, that works perfectly!"

Enid draped her arm around Y/N's shoulders, pulling her close. "You're so cute when you're being all dreamy and shy," she teased.

Wednesday rolled her eyes, but there was a hint of amusement in her voice. "Leave her alone, Enid. She doesn't need you teasing her."

Enid pouted playfully. "Aww, come on, Wednesday. It's all in good fun." She turned to Y/N with a grin. "Right, sweetie?"

Y/N blushed, feeling overwhelmed by the attention. "Um, yeah. I guess so."

Wednesday stepped forward, placing a hand on Y/N's back. "Don't mind her. She's just trying to ruffle your feathers."

Enid shot her a look. "I am not!"

Wednesday chuckled. "Sure you're not. Anyway, Y/N, what do you feel like doing today? I was thinking we could check out that abandoned asylum on the outskirts of town."

Y/N's eyes widened. "Really? That sounds scary."

Enid grinned. "Don't worry, we'll protect you." She pulled Y/N into a tight hug.

Wednesday smirked. "Yeah, we wouldn't want anything bad to happen to our favorite dreamer."

Enid and Wednesday exchanged a knowing look, their unspoken agreement to look out for Y/N clear. They both knew that Y/N was special, and they were more than happy to shower her with love and affection.

Later next morning -

Enid and Wednesday quickly made their way towards Y/N as she ran away, tears streaming down her face. Enid grabbed Y/N's arm and pulled her towards her chest, while Wednesday stood protectively in front of them.

"What the hell happened?" Wednesday growled, her voice low and dangerous.

"Hey, hey," Enid cooed, running her hand through Y/N's hair.

Y/N sniffled and wiped her tears, "It's nothing, I'm fine."

"Like hell, you are," Enid snapped, her grip tightening around Y/N. "What did those vamps and sirens do to you?"

Y/N sniffled, wiping her eyes. "They were making fun of me, calling me a weirdo and a loner."

"Well, they're going to regret messing with you," Wednesday said, her eyes flashing with anger. "No one messes with our Y/N and gets away with it."

Enid nodded in agreement, "We're going to make sure they never bother you again."

Y/N felt a warmth spread through her chest at the protectiveness of her new lovers. "Thank you both, but I don't want any trouble."

"Don't worry about it," Wednesday said with a reassuring smile. "We've got your back."

Enid hugged Y/N again, "Always."

Enid leaned down to press a gentle kiss to Y/N's forehead, and Wednesday pulled her into a tight embrace. "We won't let anyone hurt you," she vowed.

Y/N smiled and felt grateful for having them in her life. They may be different from each other, but they had become her family in this strange world.

Enid's eyes flashed with fury as they landed on the group of vampires and sirens who were harassing Y/N in the cafeteria. "Those bastards," she muttered under her breath.

Wednesday's expression was equally grim. "We need to put an end to this."

Enid's fingers clenched into fists as she stepped forward, her wolf instincts urging her to protect Y/N. "I'll show them not to mess with one of our own."

Wednesday nodded in agreement. "Let's do this."

As they approached the group of vampires and sirens, the bullies sneered at them. "What do you want, freaks?"

Enid growled low in her throat, her eyes flashing amber. "You hurt Y/N. That's not something we take lightly."

The leader of the vampires laughed, "What are you, some kind of weird threesome? We didn't know you guys were polyamorous."

Enid's face twisted in anger as she took a step forward, her hand curling into a fist. "It's not about that, it's about respect. And you've clearly shown that you don't have any."

Wednesday's eyes narrowed as she stepped forward, placing a hand on Enid's arm to calm her down. "We won't tolerate any more bullying, do you understand? Or do we need to teach you a lesson?"

The vampires and sirens hesitated for a moment, but then one of the vampires lunged forward, fangs bared. Enid was quick to react, dodging the attack and delivering a swift kick to the vampire's gut.

Wednesday narrowed her eyes, her expression turning cold and calculating. Without a word, she strode forward and before anyone could react, she launched herself at the nearest vampire. The vampire stumbled back in surprise, but Wednesday was relentless, throwing punches with precision and skill.

Enid watched with a mixture of admiration and concern as Wednesday fought off the vampires and sirens. She knew how much Wednesday valued her independence, and how important it was for her to be able to take care of herself.

Meanwhile, Y/N watched in awe as Wednesday took down her attackers with such ease. She had never seen someone fight like that before. It was both terrifying and exhilarating.

As the last of the vampires and sirens fled the scene, Wednesday turned to Enid and Y/N, a fierce look of determination on her face. "We need to make it clear to them that we won't tolerate any more bullying or harassment. We're a family now, and we'll protect each other no matter what."

Enid nodded in agreement, a proud smile on her face. "Damn right we will. You were amazing, Wednesday."

Y/N stepped forward, her heart racing with a mix of fear and admiration. "I...I don't know what to say. You guys just saved me."

Wednesday's expression softened as she turned to Y/N. "You're one of us now. We protect our own."

Enid wrapped her arm around Y/N's shoulder, pulling her close. "And we spoil our own too," she added with a smirk, making Y/N laugh.

As Wednesday and Enid walked Y/N back to their dorm room, Wednesday couldn't help but feel protective of the new love interest they had found. As they reached the door, Wednesday turned to face Y/N, her hand reaching out to gently caress Y/N's cheek.

"Are you okay?" she asked softly, her gaze intense yet caring.

Y/N smiled at her, feeling a sense of comfort from the touch. "Yes, thank you both for coming to my rescue," she replied.

Enid moved closer, wrapping her arm around Wednesday's waist and resting her head on her shoulder. "We'll always have your back," she said with a soft smile.

Wednesday leaned in closer to Y/N, her breath hot against Y/N's ear as she whispered, "And I'll always keep you safe."

Y/N's heart skipped a beat at the words, feeling a warmth spreading through her body. Enid let out a soft chuckle, pulling both Wednesday and Y/N into a tight embrace.

"Welcome to the weirdo squad," she said with a grin.

Wednesday and Enid grinned back at Y/N. "Glad to have you," Enid said, pulling Y/N into a tight hug.

Wednesday stepped forward, placing a gentle hand on Y/N's cheek. "You know, we take care of our own," she said, leaning in to place a soft kiss on Y/N's lips.

Enid joined in, pressing a kiss to Y/N's other cheek. "And we definitely take care of our girlfriend," she said with a smirk.

Y/N's heart swelled with warmth and love as she returned the kisses, feeling completely at home with her new found weirdo family.

[yichens]

Nine people you'd like to get to know better

thank you for tagging me bea @23point5degree ♥

tagging in return: @jimmysea @chinzhilla @spicyvampire @thasorns @icouldhyperfixatehim @stormyoceans @mooninagust @celestial-sapphicss @khaotunqs ♥

and now revealing my darkest secrets heh

-

3 ships

based on the fics i've been consuming lately (explains truly where my head is at rn):

the chocobros ot4 (ignis, prompto, gladiolus, and noctis) from final fantasy xv (you cannot convince me anyone would go to such lengths just for their "bro" even when said bro is royalty and the chosen king to save the world)

yuu kanda and allen walker from d.gray-man (used to watch this anime around 10 years ago and decided to do it again on a whim. it was as good as i remembered and i had to continue to the manga after finishing it. now am experiencing major brainrot bc like i saw someone comment, for a manga that doesn't aim to be a bl, it surely does make it hard to believe otherwise. i also adore the tragedy of it all)

chris redfield and leon s. kennedy from resident evil (maybe the most important thing were the ppl we met and could count on during the zombie apocalypse ♥ also damn, these bitches)

First ship

my first ever ship i read fanfics for was dominic x brian from fast & furious. otherwise, my first ever ship came from anime as i was consuming that before i ever touched any bl dramas.

my true first ship would so be soubi and ritsuka from the 2005 anime adaptation of the manga loveless. a bit questionable choice i admit, but i still collect the manga bc i find the story fascinating and delightfully painful. also, i love the concept of named pairs (soulmatism with a knife) and their ability to fight against each other

my first ever (thai) bl ship would probably be korn and knock from together with me. there was just something about them back then that made me feel slightly deranged. (with bonus yihwa bc i still think she's one of the best female characters in a bl)

Last song

ดาวหางฮัลเลย์ (halley's comet) by fellow fellow. (sea sung this during his solo stage in last twilight new dawn: live on stage and i've been addicted ever since. i usually listen to this on loop for hours, it's just so nice and vibe-y)

Currently reading

still stuck with midnight sun, for my thesis. otherwise, consuming only fanfics and hoping to get to the little prince soon.

Last movie

the newest resident evil animated movie resident evil: death island (2023). tells you about the depths of that particular brainrot :'D the latest acted movie would probably be the korean movie silenced (2011).

Currently craving

something more solid to eat, especially the pile of snacks i have stored away until i can eat them. got my wisdom tooth removed a couple of days ago and have been mostly eating soup, yogurt, porridge, ice cream, smoothies... anything liquid-y. starting to feel a bit bored but am gonna be free soon

[batgirlsay]

Bodyguard Tempting Fate

Obiyuki Trope Madness 2024 Playlist for Bodyguard Crush

Another early Obi playlist using the most broadly themed trope, so I could include some songs I’ve been wanting to use for a while! Most songs have some common themes from previous playlists (arrows, snow, green vs. gold) but I had a difficult time naming this playlist before noticing the lyric “troublemaker tempting fate” from the Nada Surf song.

Bodyguard Tempting Fate

An Arrow in the Wall- Death Cab for Cutie Acrid- The Beths Troublemaker- Nada Surf Bite The Hand- boygenius Whose Authority- Nada Surf The State of Gold, Pt. 1- Matt Pond PA Bring You Down- The Dear Hunter Green Eyes, Red Face- Lucy Dacus Copper Mine- Matt Pond PA

Summary lyrics are cited after the cut:

An Arrow in the Wall- Death Cab for Cutie

My heart runs on gasoline vapors The thousand drums waking up the neighbors But I can feel the fissures in the freeways The rusted steel, deception in the handshakes

An arrow in the wall Take it as a warning That you are gonna fall Even if you're soaring

There's more than one way to get your freedom

Acrid- The Beths

Acrid, the smell of burning rubber is a daily feature When I throw myself into reverse Check out of my surroundings Backing up so blindly, my back to the universe

Like a ship out of commission Like an arrow always missing

I'm trying to lie like a pro And I know it looks easy from the outside But it's hard to hold your brow just so

Like a record slowly twisting Like an arrow always missing I'm always whistling by But it's you I want to run into Tragic, the messages I send my mind post-midnight Are showing seen but no reply So I mash the keys a million times for a million years And maybe by chance I'll say it right Closing in on your middle distance Filling quivers with ammunition But I'm always missing you

I want to run into you Like a light burning bright in your hard heart I won't make a sound when I go dark Can you see me through

Troublemaker- Nada Surf

Why do I feel bad again? I shouldn't be sad or miss a grin Doubt creeps in and doubt creeps out Skews the view from my cloud

Troublemaker tempting fate Questioning the path I take Showing me the twists and turns The forks and points of no return

Every day I choose to spend the rest of my life with her And every day I break the molds of lives and worlds I already miss the things that I will never know I will never know the things that I've already missed

Bite The Hand- boygenius

I can't hear you, you're too far away I can't see you, the light is in my face I can't touch you, I wouldn't if I could

Here's the best part distilled for you But you want what I can't give to you Your hands are gravity while my hands are tied I can't love you how you want me to

Whose Authority- Nada Surf

I walk like you guide me, my eyes Are shut like I'm blind Turn to you and listening and tryin' To be in your mind

Surprised in translation World without end

How do you stay where You most want to be? Where'd you get the patience Did it come easily?

On whose authority I have none over me 

The State of Gold, Pt. 1- Matt Pond PA

I might have a drink to be myself I hope nobody notices tonight what it takes to be real To truly keep this lamppost standing

I don’t care if anyone carries me I don’t care if anyone drops me Cause I know how to be alone At least I’ve learned how to be alone

We might have to fight to get out That’s the way I picture almost every night below stars Below the crown of heaven

All I care about is your sentences And all the secrets you left down in them There’s so much we’ll never know All the vastness in the word hello

There's more than one way to live There's more than one way to love There's more than one way to give I won't stop climbing to the state of gold

In the ether above our reach is the state of gold worth believing in

Bring You Down- The Dear Hunter

You took me by surprise A stranger through my eager eyes

I tried so hard to hide The cynic in me far from sight But moments still arise when My flaws get the best of me

So don't let me bring you down No, don't let me bring you down

Green Eyes, Red Face- Lucy Dacus

Slow dancing At low tide Drawn to move By the moon

And I see the seat next to yours is unoccupied And I was wondering if you'd let me come and sit by your side And I got plenty of affection I'll be glad to show you some time

What am I supposed to do With you in the room? What am I supposed to say With your green eyes on my red face?

Copper Mine- Matt Pond PA

When it snows from above the towers The ground stays still - it can't get away Clothe the roofs hour after hour

With this ease ignore the obvious Heard the cold lost all its power If we go let's go away

[serene-sun]

𝕬 𝖑𝖔𝖓𝖌 𝖆𝖜𝖆𝖎𝖙𝖊𝖉 𝖘𝖙𝖔𝖗𝖒

Chapter 4a of my series “𝕽𝖔𝖘𝖊 𝕲𝖆𝖗𝖉𝖊𝖓 𝕱𝖚𝖓𝖊𝖗𝖆𝖑 𝕺𝖋 𝕾𝖔𝖗𝖊𝖘”

Lust, it was one of the founding sins.

Lucifer lusted for power, equality…answers. And soon it would drag him down to the carnelian flames of hell in which his kingdom rose from the ashes and the souls of the dammed turned into terrible beasts that roamed the land to devour.

Wrath, the art of emotion, the feeling of hell fire burning deep inside.

Laziness, the ability to let things play out, the sense of patience and control.

Gluttony, to consume what is rich and abundant.

Greed, a feeling of pleasure in others, a sense of want.

Envy, the sin of appreciation and love, desire filled with fire.

Pride, the crown of independence that’s laid upon our heads by our father in hell.

Seven rules of life, seven ways to live, seven acts and seven ways to die. It was truly a beautiful thing.

It was late evening and a storm had taken swoon of the entire ministry. Thunder cracked through the midnight sky, lightning lit the room for a moment before disappearing. Wind howled like hunting wolves against the windows.

“Did you bring it?” A nameless ghoul asks another, a nod in response as murmurs filled the meeting room.

“What is this about…? Im concerned…count never summons us so late in night.” One says before handing them a book.

“I heard a feral ghoul was seen wondering the campus…” someone murmurs.

“Do you think…it’s about him…?”

The door quickly opens, the count and his ghouls make through the room as it goes dead silent. The older man wears his usual slicked back hair, black eye circles and painted top lip. He was in his black cloak as usual, it draped to the floor and slugged behind him as his eerie demeanor focused on the presence of the clergy in the room.

It was only upper members and priests, ghouls and the heads of certain departments like the kitchen and infirmary that were in there. It felt like the walls were closing in with the crowd waiting whatever had summoned them all.

Another angry rumble from the sky, and a strike of lightning that make the sliver ghoul masks light up. They stood behind his desk as he took a seat.

He breathed a deep sigh, “I apologize for such a late summoning, but it appears that we have a disturbance”

“A disturbance?” One person asks, “like an intruder?”

“No…uhm…as you may of heard there was a feral ghoul on campus, it has been taken care of.” The count says, swallowing deeply.

The crowd picks up their murmurs, “what?! How could that happen?”

“Calm down everyone, don’t act as if this is a shock. We’re only a week from the solar eclipse…the demonic realm is closer to ours than ever before and we must take precautions.”

The crowd calms down as they nod, it wasn’t easy to dislike such a righteous man.

“I’d like to remind everyone what happened last eclipse.” The second eldest son rose from his seat, “I’d prefer if we didn’t have search dogs looking across our land for a corpse they will never find.”

“Oh don’t scare them…as long as we keep everyone accounted for this should go smoothly with no deaths.” Primo said, tapping his cane against the seconds foot.

The count stood up, “I need you all to listen very carefully…” he says, taking off his gloves as the room got very serious like the air turned thicker, “no rituals will be held until after the eclipse, nobody enters or leaves this ministry, and not a single word will be said as to why.”

“But won’t a riot start out? We can’t hold these people hostage.” A priest said

“Yes, won’t they question? And when it gets out of hand what do we do? They will break out in fear and want to leave” another agreed

“Tell them something to keep them occupied. Change the conversation to about the upcoming vows, those are in only three days, keep the newer people busy and focused on their sin.” He said as he sat back down, “your all dismissed…”

After the room cleared out, a nameless ghoul handed count copia the ancient book, “my lord…why do you request such a book?”

The thing was thick, dusty and falling apart. It was centuries old, said to be written at the time of the crusifcation.

“Im afraid we have an unwanted foe trying to visit.” He said, placing the book in his desk.

“Ghouls, you are all ordered to protect everyone here, stand guard everywhere. If anything is suspicious or out of ordinary, you come to me immediately.” He ordered.

“This foe….is it possibly…uhm…you know…” water asks

“If anything is out of the ordinary…come directly to me….”